Thy Kingdom Come
by pussycatwithattitude
Summary: WW1 AU, 1916. Sergeant John Bates has been severely injured in the line of duty at the Battle of the Somme and is sent to a rehabilitation hospital back in England where he meets Nurse Anna Smith. Will she be able to bring him out of the shadows? Will he allow her to help him on the road to recovery?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hi guys! I've been working on this for quite a while now, and the idea came from the research I've done for one of my University projects, so I hope most of the facts will be correct. I guess this will be a hard-hitting story, but I hope I've managed to do it sensitively enough. Please do leave me your thoughts if you can, I'd really appreciate them, I've been very partial about writing/posting this.

So this is a WW1 AU, where John was not injured during the African Wars and therefore is able to fight, and was never at Downton. Neither was Anna. Rating is T for the moment, possibly moving to M at some point, and as usual these characters and anything that you recognise will probably belong to Julian Fellowes, ITV etc. Although after this latest series I'd love to steal them from him.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of it.

* * *

**Thy Kingdom Come**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

_France, October 1916_

Pain.

All he could feel was a searing, blinding pain, riding up his leg inch by inch. It was almost as though something had manifested itself beneath his skin and wanted to give him no respite. It felt like a pain that was never going to go away. He had never felt anything like it before.

His vision became blurred and the ground was rising in the air around him, spitting the dirt back at him. It was creating a bellowing cloud and he could feel the mud splattered across his face as he attempted to open his mouth and call for help. It was his first instinct.

He heard nothing leave his mouth. All he could sense was the pain as it ripped through his leg. As he attempted to move and reach for the area around his right knee he found himself unable to move. He could distinctly feel the weight of another man on top of him, obstructing his movement. He was trapped. As he let his head fall back into the muddied ground, marked with rain water and everything else, his eyes searching frantically as he tried desperately to see through his blurred vision, he heard a voice calling for him.

He thought he recognised the voice. William. A bit of a ditsy Private but a good lad. He had a soft spot for him. Then he could hear Captain Crawley. He was shouting at him to speak, to say anything. He seemed to be close by.

The pain then cried out once more and he wanted to scream. He thought he might yell but once more he found that nothing left his lips. He couldn't speak.

The last thing he remembered before he fell into the dark pit of his consciousness was the pain.

* * *

When he woke up John felt numb. It took him a while to regain any of his senses. The first that seemed to come back to him was feeling, which was funny because he felt nothing. He felt numb. Then he could smell. He would rather not have been brought back to that smell. He could sense the disinfectant, but mostly he could smell the blood. The bodies. He had grown used to that smell in the trenches. He had little choice but to in France.

Then he began to hear again: there were female voices all around him and a few hollowed cries of men. It was a harsh sound to wake to. And the all too familiar explosive noises in the background.

Then he opened his eyes and the fabric of the tent came into view.

He knew he was in the field military hospital. He had been here before to see some of his privates. That was when the panic began to rise through his body. He briefly remembered the pain... the mud and the voices. But mostly the pain.

He found his hand moving down to his leg, feeling for the source of the pain. He felt nothing.

That was when he cried out.

It all happened in a hurry. First he was yelling and struggling to sit up in bed and next he was being pushed back down. He was being told to calm down. He cried out.

He felt a needle prick his arm and within a few moments the panic was gone.

* * *

_One week later_

_November, 1916_

The next time John woke up the smell had gone. That was the first thing he sensed this time. It was also quiet, save for the gentle hum of conversation floating around him and an occasional chirping that sounded a lot like birds. It was not usual to see or hear birds in France. They liked to be elsewhere. He could hardly blame them. Then he heard the sound of men's laughter faintly in the distance.

John frowned in his sleep. His eyes were still closed.

There were no loud bangs. That was strange. Just the occasional scrape or click of a heel against a tile floor. John also swore he could feel a light breeze crossing his chest. The bed was also comfier than he was used to.

No one was shouting.

He shifted to his side as he struggled to open his eyes. It was then that he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Sergeant Bates?"

The voice was soft. Soft but firm. It had a recognisable accent. Yorkshire, maybe. Definitely not London. Definitely Northern. It was sweeter than the sounds he was used to waking up to.

John attempted to open his eyes. As he did the brightness of the room blinded him temporarily and he tried to shy away from it.

"That's it," the voice encouraged him gently. He felt a hand on the back of his shoulder now, almost helping him to sit.

His throat suddenly felt extremely dry.

"Water," John managed to croak. He then felt the hand pushing him forward as he adjusted his eyes while another brought the rim of a glass to his lips. The liquid was a relief in his mouth and his throat felt a hundred times better already.

"You're certainly a sight for sore eyes. Your mother has been so worried."

The mention of his mother stirred the usual feelings in his chest. He remembered the latest letter he had sent and received from her – it had been a while. But if his mother had been mentioned, if she had visited, he must no longer be in France. He must be back in England, in London maybe. He blinked even more rapidly to adjust his sight.

The first thing he seemed to notice was that this place was clean. It smelt good. Then he recalled the field hospital, and a boat trip.

Now that he thought of it he did remember parts of the trip back. It made a little more sense now. They seemed like hazy memories now, like brief flashes. He recalled that he might not have wanted to be awake. He remembered being transferred: the back of an ambulance as it shook along the make-shift roads from the trenches. The pain. He remembered crying out, not just because of the pain in his leg but because his mind was hazy. He couldn't understand any of it.

"Lord Grantham made sure you came straight here." Captain Crawley, now he remembered some of it. He remembered Captain Crawley being right in the line of fire... he remembered leaping across to shield him... The voice came once more and now that his eyes had fully adjusted he could see the outline of her face. Then he focused more. She looked young, younger than him at any rate. Blonde. Thin. Too thin his mother would say.

He had no idea where 'here' was but he hoped to find out. As he turned his head from side to side she seemed to understand his predicament.

"You're in Queen Mary's Hospital, Sergeant Bates." He briefly recalled the name. Roehampton. London. "You're in safe hands. Not to worry."

John had no idea what his future held. Why he needed to be in safe hands. He had no idea what had happened. He only remembered the pain. But he did know something. She had the voice of an angel.

He had no idea she would be his saviour.

* * *

**A/N: **Big, big thank you to testship for all the help with this. I promise the next chapter will be longer too. Please let me know what you think :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thank you very much! Some more characters are introduced in this chapter, a lot of them from the show. Others will appear throughout the story, although I don't see them playing a huge role. Mother Bates will also feature heavily from the next chapter.

* * *

**Thy Kingdom Come  
****Chapter Two**

* * *

Once he had woken up and recovered enough to think for himself, he heard the nurse - for she was a nurse, that much he could gather from her uniform and their surroundings - calling for the doctor. A Doctor Clarkson or other. Another nurse replied, this time with a much more Southern accent, and said he would be along within the next ten minutes.

"Nothing to worry about, Sergeant Bates. Just to make sure you know what's going on." The nurse turned back around to him and smiled.

It was the sort of smile that could cure thousands.

"I'm Nurse Smith."

John felt himself nodding. As he listened to her talking and explaining things to him, he suddenly started to recall some of his memories of the past week.

The pain in his leg – the biting pain as it had risen up his leg.

_What had happened?_

"My leg..." He mumbled suddenly in realisation. Using all the strength he could muster John reached down to his leg that was covered with the bed sheets, but found nothing. Confusion turned to panic. "My..."

"Calm down, Sergeant Bates. Doctor will be along soon to explain."

Anna had experienced this with almost all of her patients so far. She could never hope to imagine how they must feel upon the realisation. That they had lost their limbs. That they were amputees.

She reached forward for Sergeant Bates as he started to thrash around in the bed in a blind panic.

John could feel her hands on his arms as she tried to restrain him. _Explain._ What was there to explain? He was a cripple. Half of his leg was gone. And there was nothing he could do. Nothing needed to be explained.

He felt hot tears gather in his eyes. He shook his head as he continued to thrash about in the thin hospital bed and he could hear himself groaning and calling for her to leave him be. He was vaguely aware of a bandage around his left wrist, and he surmised that it must have been sprained. The pain told him that.

"It'll all be fine. Trust me."

He found himself resenting her for saying it. He was angered at her words. _What did she understand?_ But soon her voice was replaced with another, and this time it was distinctly masculine. There were also a stronger pair of hands holding him down and this time they succeeded.

"Sergeant Barrow, would you help?"

Then he felt two pairs of hands and he gave up the fight completely.

He sensed one of the men walking away after the one who he now recognised to be Doctor Clarkson dismissed him. John turned his head to one side to see an average, dark-haired looking fellow walking away dressed in the usual convalescent blues. He had a bit of a limp and a rather noticeable bandage around his hand.

But John found he had no more time to watch the other men for Doctor Clarkson started to talk.

"Sergeant Bates," the doctor began. "As I'm sure you're aware by now, you have suffered terrible injuries."

John had turned around to face the doctor but was now turning his head once more. It was like being faced with his failings. All of his failings in life.

"You were out of it for quite some time. Although that may be more down to the sedatives they used to calm you down and the journey back. And the fever." The doctor paused. "Do you remember anything, Sergeant?"

John said nothing. Nor did he make any sort of movement. Doctor Clarkson took this as incentive to continue regardless.

"You were hit by an exploding bullet on October 24th, jumping in front of Captain Crawley. The fragments shattered your knee and penetrated some of the key ligaments." John closed his eyes as it was explained to him. All he needed to know was that his leg was gone. He subconsciously began to rub his neck with the palm of his hand. "By the time you were found and taken to the field hospital there was nothing that could be done to save your leg. An infection had spread and you had developed a very high fever. There was nothing the doctors could have done, Sergeant Bates. I am very sorry."

John could bear it no longer and he turned completely away from the doctor. It was the old effect he had undertaken as a child, if he could not see it, it must not exist. In this case it was Doctor Clarkson. His mother had always chastised him for it.

As he turned, however, he caught sight of the nurse from before. Nurse Smith. She was helping another of the soldiers a couple of beds down from him to his feet. This man had lost both legs from below the knee. But John noticed that he had some sort of replacement attached to the remaining tissue. It enabled the man to walk although not completely unaided at the moment. This was where Nurse Smith was helping him. She held out some crutches for him to take and remained at his side should he need to be steadied.

He may have been surrounded by some of the only people that knew how he was feeling, but he had never felt so isolated.

He heard Doctor Clarkson from behind him.

"You may not have realised already, Sergeant Bates, but this is very much a rehabilitation hospital." John closed his eyes and felt his heart shudder. The thought of ever trying to act normally after this terrified him. "This is to try and help you as much as we can to return back to civilian life. You'll be on the waiting list to receive a prosthetic as replacement for your leg. This should help you to be a lot more mobile in time to come."

John found himself hearing the words being spoken but not really listening. He could hear Doctor Clarkson as he continued to regale the process by which he would hope to recover and the programmes that the hospital would provide for him.

But his future was bleak now. The sense of loss was strange. He felt… un-whole. There would be no more chances for him, not now. His career in the army was finished. There was no sort of labour he could do. His mother would be ashamed. Just as he had started to win her approval once more – after the drink and after Vera – she would be ashamed again. She may pity him. He didn't want it.

More than once he had thought about his old life, before Vera had entered into it. His youth. How he longed for it back. The poets always spoke of a desperate longing for youth, but John doubted they had experienced _this_. He wanted his youth back now that his life was over.

All John could think about was his old life. His leg. His new life; his bleak future. He thought of the challenge that work would pose and he thought about his mother. He longed to see her – longed for a visit. It had been months since he had last seen her. But then he thought back to his regiment. He thought of the gunfire and the spitting mud and he turned away from the doctor and closed his eyes.

Maybe if he shut his eyes he would shut away the world.

He thought of the life he had lost there and would never get back.

* * *

_Late November, 1916_

"They say it was the bloodiest battle so far." Anna remarked as she checked his blood pressure and temperature. The fever had all but disappeared since he had arrived in England but from all that Anna had learnt in her time as a nurse it was never to assume, and that she could never be too careful. So many soldiers had no fever when they left France and had developed one on the voyage back. In the first few weeks she had learnt to check for these symptoms, as she had first been taught.

She also moved back the bed sheets and checked his leg which earned her a scowl. The bandage was still there after the wound had been cauterised over in the field hospital. Doctor Clarkson had checked it a few times and it was her job to check it regularly just in case there were any problems. None at the moment, it would seem.

"What would you know?" John growled bitterly.

Sergeant Bates was not the easiest of patients she had ever come across. Anna just tended to sigh and ignore him when he was like this.

The Battle of the Somme had ended recently, and from what the newspapers reported, it sounded horrific. Anna should have known really because their patients here had almost doubled in the last months. Sergeant Bates had been one of these.

John found himself to be turning into quite a bitter and angry man. He did not like it. It reminded him of his time with Vera. The drink. When he thought of those times and the relief he used to feel at the hands of a bottle of whiskey he almost wished he could go back. It might help him to cope.

But then he remembered his mother. She was the reason he had given up the drink. After he had showed up on her doorstep in the early hours that morning, a bitter and angry drunk with a bottle in his hand and hot tears rolling down his cheeks after another argument with Vera, Maeve Bates had reached the end of her tether. He could still remember that night now. Quite how he did he was unsure. She had taken the bottle from him and made him watch as she poured it down the kitchen sink. And she would do the same every time she found him with another bottle, although those times became considerably less after that night. She had given him a few home truths. It had shaken him to the core. Enough to realise that he needed to change. Enough to realise that he _wanted_ to change. His mother had made him realise that he did not deserve to feel this way, and that a husband and wife should not live like this. The way Vera stalked off and found solace in the company of other men was not normal. And Maeve no longer liked the man her son had become. She was ashamed.

She had been ashamed of him. Ultimately that had been his motive to stop. And that was why turning to the bottle was not an option now.

"As much as any of us know at home," Anna bit back. She could certainly hold her own, John thought. His mind drifted from his mother to Nurse Smith. Anna was used to these kinds of comments from some of her patients.

"As much as the papers want to tell you, you mean."

John couldn't help it. She didn't understand. She could never hope to. She would never have to wake to the sounds of screaming and horror. To the fear of waking up to death. The fear of not waking up at all.

"We're living the war too." Anna threw the duvet covers back over his leg, finished for now with her inspection. She looked him in the eyes. "Everyone knows someone over there. This war leaves no one untouched, Sergeant Bates."

She was resilient, he would give her that. But she was still too young to understand. And her cheery optimism angered him. Almost as though she believed he could walk out of here and live his life again.

John sighed and turned his head, not wanting to face her anymore. She was a lot more tenacious than the other nurses. The others seemed to have given up on him already, although he supposed he gave them nothing really to go on. They wanted him to start using a pair of crutches. To try and start walking again. The stern matron seemed to dislike him too, although he supposed it was just her dedication to work and to the patients she looked after. She was stern, but fair. But he noticed a look of disapproval whenever she came over to see him and he would not respond. He didn't care. He didn't care about the other Sergeant who would make snide remarks here and there. He found it difficult to care about any of it.

"Everyone carries scars, Sergeant Bates." She was talking again. Now she was looking at his charts. "Inside and out."

But this seemed to strike a cord. Because he knew that the physical scars were not always the worst of them. He remembered the Private in his regiment. Frederick. Fred. The war had scarred him more than the eye could see. The fear had sent him mad. He still heard the gun shot in his nightmares.

"Good news anyway," Nurse Smith continued. She had rounded the bed and she was arranging the flowers his mother had brought him now. She visited as often as she could. He enjoyed that. Sometimes in those moments he felt reacquainted with his old life again. He turned his attention back to the nurse. "Lord Grantham has asked for you to be moved up the waiting list, he says you saved his life." _For his new leg, of course._ "You may have it just after Christmas all being well."

John shrugged and mumbled to himself. He began to rub his neck. "Why should I want one?" But she heard him and turned her head to face him.

"And why wouldn't you?"

Anna heard him mutter another response but a little quieter this time. It was only just loud enough to hear. Something about no dignity and wishing they'd just bloody ended it. She felt a cold shiver run through her body. She watched as he rubbed his neck. She noticed that he did that a lot. Perhaps as a soothing gesture. He only seemed to do it when he appeared to be upset. He continued to mutter something about work and no one willing to take on a cripple.

"Plenty of men find work from here." Anna spoke solidly. "There are all different kinds of work available now. What did you do before the war?"

He didn't answer. He hardly wanted to tell her that before the war he was a drunkard. A divorced man and a drunkard. The occasional bar work when he was sober enough to hold a job, until 1914 when he had heard his calling. The army had straightened the rest of him up. His mother had done a good job beforehand and the army had done the rest. He had worked hard. His hard work, bravery and honour had earned him a promotion to Sergeant fairly soon after he had been sent to France. Captain Crawley had taken a shine to him, it seemed. He had to remind himself to call him Captain Crawley, especially when he seemed to be Lord Grantham here too.

When he did not respond Anna took that as her cue to leave. With a sigh she collected some articles of his clothing for the laundry and made her move, although not before doubly checking his injured wrist. John responded afterwards by picking up his book and starting to read again.

Anna turned to look at him once more before she left the ward. There was something about him. He was a challenge, that much was certain. But she knew that beneath the fear, the desperation and the heartbreak he had been through there must be a brave, kind man. His mother said as much. The events of the last month had stripped away all that he had held dear and he felt as though his life had been snatched away from him. But Anna was strangely drawn to him. The only time she saw his eyes take on any kind of resemblance to content or peace was when his mother visited. But she wanted to do whatever she could to pull him from the shadows. She wanted to help him realise that he could still live a life, his life. She wanted to teach and show him how to live again.

She had never leant so much to faith until the start of the war. In her youth she attended Church every Sunday and would consider herself a firm believer, but now her prayers had never seemed more important. In war one of the only things people could rely on was faith. And Anna knew that God worked in mysterious ways, and that somehow He must have a plan for Sergeant Bates.

She only prayed that he would find it.

* * *

_December, 1916_

The Christmas period soon crept up on them and Anna felt as though she was no closer to Sergeant Bates than she had been since he had woken up. He sat in bed looking as particularly mournful as he had when he had first arrived, and although she would never begrudge or judge him for it - heaven knows after all these men had been through - it was her job to bring him from the darkness. And she knew matron was growing increasingly aware of his unwillingness to cooperate with his recuperation.

As Anna did her rounds that morning she passed his bed. Sergeant Bates had a book in hand but he seemed to have lost interest in it some time ago. His wrist was better now, although she had hoped the same could have been said for _him_. She watched him for a few moments, his eyes never leaving his spot on the page except for some painful twitch. She assumed he was revisiting some unwanted memories.

She intervened, "Afternoon, Sergeant Bates." She watched as he jumped in shock and briefly chastised herself for being so thoughtless.

He looked up at her with darkened eyes and he muttered, "Nurse."

"Not long now until Christmas," Anna attempted to instil some cheer. Anything. He needed any sort of motivation to move from the bed as she could muster. Most of the other soldiers moved around of their own accord now, even when their classes were not in session. But Sergeant Bates had refused.

Anna noticed that he was still in no mood to converse with her, therefore she continued with the conversation for them both.

"I doubt I'll go home for Christmas this year. It doesn't feel right with my brother over in France." She watched as this seemed to spark the slightest of interest in the Sergeant. Not a lot but more than she was used to. She saw it as a step forward. "James and me always fought when we were younger, but now none of that seems to matter. My sister and her children will probably go to my parents' for a few days but her husband is away too."

'Away' seemed the nicest word to use in this case. It was the word that filled them with most hope. It was better than saying over there with the Germans and the gunfire and the trenches.

John listened carefully to her words, although he tried to show no sign. He might not have wanted to include himself in their recuperation programmes but he never minded this nurse. Nurse Smith. She talked a lot and often tried too much to prise information from him, but he could tell she had a good heart. And a strong one. A strong stomach too. She was never easily bowled over by his snide remarks and could very much hold her own. Clearly this choice in career path was not a decision made lightly. Not like some of the other nurses he had met since the war had started.

"Will your mother be visiting?" She asked. John had seen her talking to his mother on more than one occasion.

"I suspect you know more about that than I do." It was supposed to come out much lighter but he found his voice to be quite cynical. Maybe before it would have been different.

_Before._

_After._

John closed his eyes at the painful realisation. He hated to think of it even still. He had only looked at it when he had to. He had cast his eyes onto the ugly stump where his leg now ended but only when he was forced to move from his bed.

"She did say she would pop by," Anna conceded with a sigh. "I shall have to bring you a Christmas card to raise your spirits." Anna tried to joke cheerfully. She had already tried unsuccessfully to wrap a piece of tinsel around his bed post.

"Do what you want," John muttered.

Anna sighed and looked at him with exasperation. "Well... is there anything else I can do for you? Is your leg comfortable enough, no irritations?"

The one thing he wanted - needed - she could not give him. No one could.

John shook his head.

"Right, I'll be off then."

John managed the smallest of smiles. A gesture his mother would be proud of. This seemed to please Nurse Smith as she left him and went to one of her other patients.

John suddenly felt exhausted. Probably to do with the little sleep he had managed the night before. Whenever he closed his eyes he remembered. When he closed them this time and felt sleep beginning to take him he hoped he wouldn't remember.

Once more that was one hope too far.

They said it would be over within a few months; that it would have ended by Christmas. And here they still were two years later.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thank you all so much. I hope everyone had a lovely start to the New Year, and enjoyed the Christmas Special (or at least the last minutes, eek!). Mother Bates makes an appearance now, and I've loved writing her scenes so far. I hope you enjoy, and please do let me know what you think. A bit more of Anna's back story here, too. Thank you **testship **once again for reading this through for me.

* * *

**Thy Kingdom Come  
****Chapter 3**

* * *

_February, 1917_

The months passed by in almost a slow crawl, and within that time Anna had still gotten no further (or so it seemed) with Sergeant Bates. His leg replacement had not arrived yet but Doctor Clarkson had mentioned that it would only be a matter of another month or so now. The waiting list reminded Anna of the sacrifices all of these men were making, not just the ones here in Roehampton but all over the country. The practicality of it all made her shudder. This was their life now, chaos and death was a daily occurrence and whilst she never claimed to have much of a relationship with God, she prayed every night for the war to end.

She also prayed that her younger brother would make it home safely. There had been little word from James, although that was no different than usual. He would rarely write to her specifically – often every few months to check how she was, and that all of the soldiers were behaving themselves around her. Only to their mother up in Yorkshire who would then relay the information back to her in their fortnightly letters. Anna knew that her mother hated having two of her three children being so far away from home, but she also knew that her mother and father both understood her reasons for coming down here.

Her life at home would have been the farm. Or a job in service as a housemaid, and she had tried that once. She had quite enjoyed her work, as much as a maid could, the house had been small but comfortable and very lovely, and her ex-employers were nothing but kind. But after she had come home to help her father with the farm when her mother had been taken seriously ill, she realised how little she would contribute to society from a place in service. That was when Anna knew within her heart that she wanted to take a different path in life. She wanted to be able to help people, or at least to make some sort of difference.

She wanted to become a nurse. Her mother had called her foolish. She had initially said that Anna had been dreaming too big. But eventually she had accepted her daughter's decision.

From there she had found a nursing school that had opened in York and applied. She had been there for two years when the news of the war broke out, and after another year she decided to go and find work in London. She had heard from some colleagues at the school that Queen Mary's Hospital had opened in order to help rehabilitate patients after injury and to prepare them for civilian life once again.

Anna had felt some sort of calling. Her mother had hated it, and her father had looked displeased at the idea of his youngest daughter moving all the way to London in the midst of a war, but both of them slowly came around to the idea.

And in January of 1916 she had moved to the bright lights of London, away from everything she had ever known. The busy streets and the chilling breeze that war seemed to have cast across the skies and the dispositions of a lot of people was ever different to the times she had spent growing up in Yorkshire. Gone were the wild moors and the green fields, to be replaced with dark, black buildings and smog.

But as she started to immerse herself into London society – and her work at the hospital – she slowly began to fall in love with the city. It was no Yorkshire, but Anna still felt like she could begin to call it home. She also lived with a Yorkshire girl, Sybil, who had become a Voluntary Aid Detachment nurse, a V.A.D., just after the war had started. Anna had first been under the impression that the decision to move had been an act of rebellion from her wealthy family, but she soon learnt that Sybil had her motives in life and that her path had very much been destined to turn in this direction.

And she got along well with her. She was slightly younger than Anna was, probably by several years if not more, but they found plenty to talk about together, especially after discovering that the two of them had lived close by back in Yorkshire. Anna knew the family Sybil came from, she had heard of them within her smaller village, but she hardly paid reference to it. That was all Sybil would talk of her family, she liked to keep them private. Although she claimed that she was not ashamed of who she was or where she had come from, she wanted to be treated as an equal, and Anna respected that.

It also meant that she shared a rather nice-looking and spacious apartment for a rather discounted price. Anna had tried to appeal to her friend and ensure that she could contribute the same as her, but Sybil would have none of it and waved her protests away. She reasoned that Anna had been a good friend to her since she had arrived in London – she had not seen her like a lot of the others did, a young rich girl trying to shock her family and move away from home. And her father had been only too content to pay for the apartment, if anything to ease his own mind that she was living so far away but in a comfortable setting.

_Lord Grantham. _It suddenly clicked that Lord Grantham was Sergeant Bates' Captain Crawley, and Anna laughed at the coincidence. It really was a much smaller world than they thought.

Sybil had wanted to move out of the nursing residential home almost as soon as she had arrived, but a compulsory period of several months living there was required. Once that was over, she had sought after finding somewhere of her own, and she had asked Anna to join her.

Their shared apartment was not far away from the hospital, less than a ten minute walk every morning, and it was surrounded by beautiful greenery and foliage that made them both feel very at home. Sometimes it felt like Yorkshire had been brought to them, and Anna was very gracious that Sybil had given her this opportunity.

Whilst she had enjoyed living with the other nurses and had enjoyed the family feeling that she had felt grow between them, the sense of independence that she got from simply being able to go out and buy her own groceries, cook her own meals to her own schedule and to come back to a place that was her own was unadulterated. She thrived upon the independence, and from then she had felt less homesick than she had to begin with. Of course she still missed her family from time to time, and whenever she got the opportunity to visit home she would enjoy the time she spent with them, but she did enjoy the fact that she was making something of her life now beyond the farm and beyond being at the beck and call of someone who wanted their sheets changing.

Chuckling to herself at the thought, she looked down at the pile of sheets in her arms that she was about to leave in the laundry. _No, this was different_. She genuinely enjoyed her work here, even though it was difficult at times. Some of her patients really did find themselves in a dark place upon arriving here, and it was her job to bring them back into the light. It was difficult when some of the men did not make it through, and her heart often ached at the thought of such a cruel fate after surviving the battlefield. But through the sadness, it only made her more determined.

With those thoughts in her mind, she left the sheets in the laundry room for some of the V.A.D. nurses to handle – one of their roles in the hospital since most of them if not all were not fully trained in nursing and tended to take on the lighter roles to free the qualified nurses for the more pressing tasks – and went in search of Sergeant Bates.

One could sense winter was ending and spring was upon them, and more and more of the soldiers were taking advantage of the weather and venturing outside once more, either for games or for a short walk. The frost on the leaves was starting to melt and the bitter winds were slowly beginning to fade. It had to be one of her favourite times of the year – the season of birth and awakening – the time when it was neither hot nor cold.

But one of the only men to not take advantage of the outdoors had been Sergeant Bates. Whilst he would offer her the occasional smile – although she suspected that was often to placate her, because they never reached his eyes, and she could tell which of his smiles were real because she saw them when his mother came to visit – he would still just sit in bed and read, barely offering a word to anyone unless it was wrapped in sarcasm or disdain.

She made her way to the ward and fixed her eyes upon him instantly. It was almost like a picture portrait now, him sat there in bed with a book in his hands but his eyes not seeming to actually digest the words on the page. His gaze was wistful and often he would wince. She usually took this as her cue to intervene.

"It's a lovely morning, Sergeant." She spoke softly as she approached his bed. She saw him register her appearance, but he said nothing in response.

Anna let herself look busy at the end of his bed, checking his notes and that his sheets were carefully wrapped around his body.

"I was thinking of going for a walk myself later. How about you join me?"

At this Sergeant Bates looked up. "And how would you suggest I do that?"

His eyes pierced into her, and for the first time Anna felt the breath leaving her body. The intensity of his gaze and the emotions he was keeping secret behind there made her want to cry.

But almost as soon as he had spoken, he continued, not giving her the opportunity to respond, "I don't quite feel like it today."

At that, he turned back to his book, and this time he actually seemed to be reading. Anna noticed that it was another selection of Burns poetry, which she had observed seemed to be a favourite of his.

"I almost forgot to say, it only just clicked the other day," Anna began and noticed that she seemed to have the full attention of the Sergeant. "Your Captain Crawley..."

"I would hardly call him _mine_," John muttered darkly.

Anna ignored him and continued. "Well, I live with his daughter." John turned to her, confused. "The Earl of Grantham's daughter, Sybil. She works here in the hospital, she's a VAD."

John recognised the name Sybil. He nodded mutely.

"Well, I thought it was such a coincidence. Given that you know him too, and we have heard so much from him." John nodded once more but said nothing, "Perhaps he will visit?"

John winced at the idea of his superior seeing him in this _state_ and Anna noticed it instantly. She wondered what was happening in his head, as she so often did. She wanted nothing more than to understand.

However, as she noticed he was remaining silent she resigned herself to defeat.

"Right, well I'll be back sometime later. See how you are. And you really should think about the walk."

An idea flashed across her mind in that moment.

When she came back later, he was asleep. But she would not be deterred, and she carefully lay down the pair of crutches across the bottom of his bed above the sheets, so he would definitely see them.

* * *

John stared at the crutches with a vengeance, but also with a degree of suspicion. He knew who had left them there. Only she would leave them there.

He _wanted _to get up and walk. He wanted that more than anything in the world, he hated being so immobile and being waited on hand and foot. But he simply couldn't.

The thought of having to use them made him feel sick to his stomach. He would often glance around nervously at the other men and would wonder what they would think if they saw him use them. He wondered how much of his pride would be lost. He feared the struggle. He watched as some of the other men struggled to walk for the first time without their leg, some of them having to adjust to life without their arms too.

John swallowed the lump in his throat and thought of his mother, as he so often did. Most of all he feared being a failure to her. What if he never walked again? What if he could never manage it?

The matron seemed to be growing impatient with him whenever she did her rounds with the nurses, and she had tactically persuaded him to at least go and attend some of the sessions that the hospital provided, even if he would not take part just yet. There was little use until he received his prosthetic limb, but he had seen those too.

These sessions were sometimes used before the soldiers received their prosthetics to check how much mobility was left, and afterwards they would become more rigorous, teaching them how to walk again with them and often without assistance. John had noticed this when he had been there. He had also noticed other classes – for men who had lost their arms, they would be undergoing similar processes, and others were undertaking more therapeutic treatments such as basket weaving or craft working. He assumed it was to gain some sort of mobility in their hands once again.

His still shook, but only after he woke from nightmares.

Not for the first time, he closed his eyes and thought about the front, and he wished it had all ended there. He would never voice it, but he felt it. And he would be there again at night in his dreams – when he did manage sleep – and often would wake in a sweat, having attracted the attention of one of the nurses as he called out.

Just last night he remembered having been woken by one of the nurses on the night shift – one with red hair and kind eyes. He had coldly told her to leave him alone and she had left, but only after ensuring that his water glass was filled and he felt her looking over at him regularly throughout the night.

But that did not stop the dreams coming back to haunt him when he did manage another hour or so later on. He feared that they would never go away.

* * *

It was Thursday afternoon, and that only meant one thing. His mother would be visiting.

There was no real schedule for visiting hours. The only rule was to come within the scheduled time – from one o'clock until half past two – but apart from that visitors could come any day. His mother often came, whenever she did not have too many chores to complete or shopping to do at the market.

John had started to hate market days.

Meanwhile, Anna watched Sergeant Bates out of the corner of her eye as she completed some medial chores on the ward. She had just finished double-checking the rota upon request from the matron when she noticed Mrs Bates had arrived.

She watched as his face lit up. It warmed her heart to see such a reaction from him, until she shook her head and forced herself to look away. He occasionally caught her watching the two of them and she would turn away, embarrassed. She knew he hated to be pitied. And this was why she always made sure to tell him that she didn't pity him; that she only wanted to help.

She only hoped that one day he would believe her.

"Good afternoon, dear."

Mrs Bates approached her son, patting his good leg before sitting down on the chair beside his bed.

"Been out of bed yet?"

John rolled his eyes. His mother knew how to get straight to the point, he would give her that.

"No, mam."

Maeve sighed. "You need to, John. It won't do you no good to be cooped up in here."

"It won't do me any good to try walking with no leg…" John mumbled to himself, hoping that his mother would not hear, but as he should have learned from his childhood, she had the ears of a hawk. A saying which admittedly he had never understood, because hawks were hardly known for their sense of hearing.

"Now, Johnny. You stop with that talk." Through her chastisement, her Irish burr became even more recognisable. John could not help but smile at the sound.

They sat in silence for a couple of moments, simply enjoying each other's presence. That was until Maeve spoke up,

"What's this I hear about you giving these nurses a hard time, John?"

Her sudden exclamation surprised him, and John looked across to the nurses' station and saw Nurse Smith, and the nurse who had woken him the other night. He knew he had been unnecessarily harsh and that he should probably apologise. But all he could do was sigh and look away, especially when he noticed Nurse Smith cast a glance over at the two of them.

"They're here to help you, son." Maeve sighed, watching her son with keen interest. She wished she could help him properly, beyond the odd smile here and there whenever she visited. She knew how much he suffered, Nurse Smith told her about him and she could see it herself in the way he looked and acted.

She wanted her son back. She often felt like he had been left over in France in spirit. The John she had now was no similarity to the John who had gone off to war with a tip of his hat and a smile.

Maeve knew her son. She knew that his pride had suffered because of the accident, but she also knew that he needed to find it within himself to understand that it was not the end of his world. That his life would go on. Bad things happened in life, but all he needed to do was find a new reason to go on.

"I hear your leg may be fitted soon, too. Maybe within the next month. It was nice of Captain Crawley to do that for you, he must think fondly of you." Maeve hoped that receiving his prosthetic leg would be the start of something new for her son. That he might revive his spirits. "But you must make an effort. The nurses can only do so much, John."

"I just want to be left alone," John replied mournfully.

Maeve watched as his face twisted and spoke up sharply, "Now don't you be looking like that, John Bates. I know that look of yours. And one day you may just be grateful that you're still here to see your old mam, because I tell you plenty aren't as lucky."

This seemed to have struck something within John. Maeve watched as his face straightened and he swallowed a lump in his throat. She wanted him to answer her, to understand that _she _still had something to live for with him still being here. But her son remained silent, brooding as he had become so prone to doing since he was a child, so she decided to simply continue talking.

Maeve spoke about her neighbours, about young Edward who seemed to be doing fine in the war. His mother had received another letter just this morning telling her about how well he was, but that could she send more chocolate. No apples, because they just went off by the time he received them. "He never did like his fruit," Maeve chuckled to herself.

She continued to talk to John until Maeve noticed a familiar face come over.

"How lovely to see you again, Mrs Bates." Anna greeted Maeve warmly, placing a hand on her shoulder as she came to stand beside the bed.

"Hello, Nurse Smith."

"Oh I've told you, please call me Anna." She insisted.

"Ach. In war formalities have never been more important." Maeve commented, looking a little wistful at her remark.

"Yet somehow they have never seemed so unimportant," Anna replied poignantly. Somewhere there were more important things now than _lord _or _lady_.

Maeve smiled in agreement. She did like the pretty, young nurse. She had a good, steady head on her shoulders and she knew her own mind. Maeve also knew how much she did for her son, no matter how unresponsive he was at the moment. She had a good feeling about Nurse Smith though, and she knew that if anyone could get through to her son, it was her.

"Have you had news of your brother?" Maeve asked tentatively. She remembered talking of her brother the last time she had visited.

Anna smiled sadly. "He's fine. Well, as fine as you can be over there. He was missing for a while actually, but he found his way back to camp along with a few others." The kind expression on the older woman's face made it so much easier to reveal all of this. "He sent my mother a letter almost immediately after, and she sent me just yesterday."

"Oh, what a relief."

"It is," Anna smiled, and she chanced a look over at Sergeant Bates, who actually seemed rather interested in their conversation, and was shifting his eyes between the two of them.

It became clear to John that Nurse Smith and his mother had struck up quite a friendship. They had clearly spoken to each other on more than one occasion, and whilst that made him a little nervous, he also found himself wanting to smile. Quite why, he did not know.

He watched as Nurse Smith continued to ask his mother about her health, well-being or simply about the market shop yesterday. She looked genuinely interested, and he found he started liking her more for it.

However, as he was watching her so intently, she turned around and looked at him. Their eyes caught each other and she gave him a warm smile, but he simply looked away and watched his mother instead.

* * *

Anna was putting away some of the medicine bottles into the cabinet in the tiny cupboard, ensuring that it was locked behind her, when a sudden voice from behind startled her,

"Well, I'll be off, dear."

Anna instantly recognised the voice and turned around to smile at Mrs Bates. The older lady had fixed her coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck. The winter was still not over.

"Take care of yourself, Mrs Bates." Anna reached out and placed her hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly.

This woman reminded her so much of her own mother, and they seemed to get along so well. She was a charming old lady who Anna admired for her strength and resolve to remain wholly positive for her son during a time like this. Anna could not imagine being so calm and collected if this had ever happened to a child of hers.

"And you, dear. All of that ice still, you must be careful walking home." Anna could not help but smile at her cautious warnings.

She reassured her, "Most of the time I walk home with Sybil, so no need to worry yourself. I should be the one telling you to mind yourself."

Maeve waved away any concern about her. But even talk of concern seemed to bring a wistful and melancholy look to the aging face of her friend, for she was a friend now. Anna instantly recognised it.

"He's in safe hands."

Maeve felt tears gathering in her eyes and quickly attempted to keep them at bay. But sometimes there was no use.

"I know, dear. And I can never thank you enough."

"You never need to thank me." Anna took Maeve's hands in hers and squeezed them reassuringly. "We _will _get there."

"He just needs to understand that we don't pity him, and that he is still the son I love." Now the tears were starting to fall down her cheeks.

"He knows that," Anna reassured her. "He does, trust me. If nothing else he knows you love him. And that you will love him, leg or no leg."

Maeve looked up and thanked her for saying it. She then started to compose herself and revealed, "He just hates having to rely on other people, does John. He has always been so independent. I think the thought of needing help scares him. And he is not so ready to accept that."

This made Anna think for a moment, and she was silenced.

"I just fear sometimes that he will…" Maeve stopped herself from speaking any more. Anna looked up curiously, suddenly pulled from her thoughts. But once she noticed the way Maeve had suddenly grown worried, she knew it was not her place. But Maeve was not so ready to stop, feeling that she needed to say something – to tell someone. "John had a difficult time, just before the war. And I worry this might send him back there." Maeve stopped and took a deep breath. "He may not appreciate me saying anything. But sometimes you need to talk to someone."

Anna smiled and squeezed her hands tightly. "I know. I won't say anything to him."

Maeve smiled at her appreciatively. She raised one of her hands to Anna's cheek and patted it gently, in a motherly fashion. "You're a good lass. You will look after yourself."

Anna nodded.

Suddenly Maeve looked past Anna at the clock in the corner of the desk. "Goodness, is that the time? I best be off to catch the bus."

"You don't want to be late," Anna added. "Will you be back tomorrow?"

"You try and stop me," Maeve joked.

* * *

"Nurse."

Anna turned as she walked down the corridor to see matron poking her head out of her office door.

"Could I have a quick word?"

Curious, Anna approached her and nodded, entering the office.

"What can I do for you, matron?"

Anna didn't mind matron. She was strict, but often fair. Anna liked her. Sometimes she was a bit too strict, but she presumed that _was _her job. Matron Elsie Hughes was good at her job. She was a formidable force amongst the soldiers, and she kept everyone in line.

"Sergeant Bates."

Anna was surprised to hear his name mentioned, and it showed in her face. Before she could ask, however, matron had continued.

"I see he is still unresponsive."

She was seemingly heading straight to the point.

"Well yes, but…"

"I know some of the men take it harder than others. But if there is nothing we can do…"

Anna winced at the thought. War had made everyone so impatient. There was almost an element of hurrying the men through the process sometimes, even when it may not be complete. She replied quickly,

"I think we are getting through to him, slowly. He seems to get better every time his mother comes to visit."

"But he will still not go outside? Or walk around himself? Whenever I see him, he's in bed."

"I think he will be better when he receives his replacement. It will take time," Anna knew Sergeant Bates well enough now, she thought, to know that it would take him some time to get used to it. Or even to feel comfortable wearing and using it around other people. He was a proud man, unwilling to admit weakness, and that was part of the main problem faced. "But I do think we can help him."

"Well if you think so, then I shall try not to worry about it," Matron supplied thoughtfully. "But I do hope you are right."

There seemed to be a melancholy exchange between the two women as they reflected upon the situation for all of the men here. It was important to know that matron did care, she cared for all of her patients, but there was a strict schedule and war made everyone rush into decisions and often lose their faith in their hopes.

But Anna had faith. If there was anything she kept close to her during war, it was faith.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Apologies for the delay, Uni assignments and life generally got in the way. The next chapter should be up quicker, it's mostly written up. Thank you for all of the reviews, I loved reading each one of them, and to the people putting this on their alerts. Much love! Thanks also to **testship **for everything, as always.

These chapters also seem to get bigger and bigger as I go along. I hope it's not too much for people, if so I'll split them up. The next is already 5,000 and not even finished yet. But yes, I hope you enjoy. More Anna and Bates interaction, and more Mama Bates (I love her so much), and an appearance from another Crawley.

* * *

**Thy Kingdom Come**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

_Early March, 1917_

_"Sergeant!"_

John felt the ground shaking beneath him. There was ground beneath him and ground above him; it was being spat back down at him. He was being covered by the flying, spitting earth, and the thunderous noises that surrounded them deafened his ears.

He looked around the muddy fields surrounding the trenches – the battlefield – and noticed some of his privates. They were lain on the floor, wounded, heads in their hands, crying…

He felt his hands shaking.

A sudden force threw him up into the air and he landed as though he were a rag doll. He lay flat on the ground. He tried to move. There was nowhere to go.

His world suddenly went black. All he could see was black. He could still hear the gunfire, he could still hear the yelling and the screaming, but he saw nothing…

He reached down for his leg and felt nothing.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, an unfamiliar hand, and he yelled. He tried to move and grab at it.

_"Sergeant Bates__…"_

The hand was shaking him now.

John shuddered and opened his eyes. He could feel sweat that had gathered on his forehead and he could hear the erratic thumping of his heart and the shortness of his breath. As he adjusted his eyes, he realised that he was safe. He was in the hospital.

"Sergeant. Are you all right, Sergeant?"

And her. Her voice.

He found himself warming at the sight of her as he awoke and adjusted his eyes properly. She was leaning over him, her hand still on his shoulder, and a moment later he felt a cool rag sweeping across his forehead, her fingers pushing away the strands of his hair that had fallen across his face. For just a moment he could imagine he was a boy again. That all of this had never happened.

"You're safe now." Her voice soothed him. "It was just a dream."

He afforded himself the comfort of her touch for a few moments until he turned his face away. Reality sunk in, and he was back here. Being here meant that his dreams were true. It was like living his nightmares.

"I'm fine," he muttered, turning his head away from her. He felt the cool rag leave his skin but he heard it drop on his bedside table.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. They say the scars up here can be as bad as those you can see." He did not see her motioning to her head, but he knew what she was talking about. She didn't. The thought of her – of anyone – understanding made him want to laugh. He did, chuckling to himself sardonically.

"Because people understand," he spoke cynically.

Anna watched him, shaking her head slightly. She fixed the sheets back around him, even when he grunted, and she spoke, "Just let me know if you need anything."

She was met with silence. A few seconds later she turned and made her way back to the station.

She did not notice the tears gathering in his eyes and the shaking of his hands as he clutched the sheets to him.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Anna asked as she took his pulse quickly and afterwards checked the bandage on his leg. The news had arrived that he would soon be receiving his prosthetic limb and Sergeant Bates had been almost silent ever since.

"Fine," he nodded, his eyes flickering everywhere but to her.

Anna stood still for a moment and watched his expression, until he noticed that she was staring and turned to face her. Their sudden eye contact made them both still. Anna shook herself physically and mentally, and broke the momentary silence, "I just wanted to check. After the other night you seem so quiet..." She trailed off and watched as he closed his eyes unresponsively. "And you haven't said much about your news."

"I'd rather not think about it," Sergeant Bates replied quietly, opening his eyes once more but keeping them fixed on the duvet cover rather than the other participant in the conversation.

"But you must at least talk about it," Anna started. "If your nightmares will only get worse, you must think about talking to someone."

A voice suddenly appeared from the end of the bed, "You need to start putting a sock in it." Anna turned to shoot the owner of the voice a stern and despairing look.

John merely looked up and scowled. Sergeant Barrow had been making snide comments here and there ever since John had arrived, and for the life of him he had no idea why. He almost pitied the man, John knew that he must have suffered similar traumas to him on the front, the same as any man here, but there was often (or rather always) no need for his remarks or his persistent badgering of the other soldiers. He seemed to be making no friends amongst the crowd.

"That's enough, Sergeant Barrow." Anna told him firmly, and the Sergeant merely rolled his eyes, took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and walked towards the open doors at the end of the ward. He had recently received a prosthetic for his hand, which he had unfortunately lost earlier last year. Anna turned back to John and smiled at him slightly, "Silly chump."

"What am I supposed to have done to him?" John asked, and Anna was happy that at least he was speaking to her.

"You don't need to have done anything," Anna explained, turning to the vase of flowers by his bedside and re-arranging them endearingly. "He had a friend, and he... he passed." John could tell by the tone of her voice that there was more to it than she was saying. "You arrived just after, and I think he might hold it against you. Lieutenant Courtenay stayed here... in your, well..."

John could tell that she felt uncomfortable saying it, and he held his hand up to signal that she could stop. He understood.

Anna smiled in gratitude.

"Sergeant Barrow had helped him," she continued to explain. "Or had tried to. I don't think he has quite forgiven himself yet. He feels as though he could have done more."

John nodded in understanding.

"Anyway," Anna smiled, placing her hands in her pockets somewhat nervously. "It's almost the end of my shift. If you don't need anything I'll be off."

John found himself turning to face her this time and sent her a somewhat reassuring smile.

With that, Anna left feeling the weight become just that little lighter.

* * *

"There you go, Sergeant."

Doctor Clarkson had shown him how to fix the prosthetic to his upper leg. It was surprisingly light, although it did obviously weigh down on his leg. He felt it.

"That should make it a little easier to move around now. With a bit of practice you may be running a marathon next year."

Doctor Clarkson instantly realised that his joke would not go down well. Sergeant Bates remained stoic and expressionless as he flexed his leg back and forth, becoming accustomed to the feel and weight of his new limb. It attached just below the knee with a strap that he tied around his leg. It seemed simple enough.

A simple enough replacement.

John swallowed hard as he looked down at his new leg. It all felt real now. Being stuck in bed or in a wheelchair made it easier to dismiss reality, he could simply be recovering from an illness, not having the strength to walk at all. But now there was no hiding from it.

This was his life now. He was an amputee, and that would never change.

"Now, I can get one of the nurses to run through our timetables. The training should help you become used to the fitting, as you have seen already, I presume?"

John nodded numbly. He may as well respond in some way.

His eyes were still fixed on it.

"Well, I can leave you to practice now, Sergeant. Let me know if you need anything."

With that, Doctor Clarkson left the consultation room. Being alone, John finally conceded to the lump in his throat and allowed a few hot tears to fall down his cheeks.

He moved his hand down to the prosthetic limb, removing the straps and bringing it closer to inspect it properly. This was a part of him now, if he was to have a normal life. Normal life. He placed the leg to his side across the check-up table and then turned his attentions to his leg. It was one of the first times he had looked at it properly, whenever he bathed he always tried to avoid looking at it – kept it beneath the water – and as he moved his hand across the rough patch of skin that had been cauterised he felt the tears fall quicker.

John screwed his eyes closed and rocked forward, his hand clenching on the place where his leg now ended. He let out a breath and was met with a simultaneous sob.

He wanted to go back.

Back to the start when none of this had happened.

But maybe it was time to start accepting the truth.

* * *

"I think it looks charming."

John could have scowled at his mother and her cheery optimism. It did not look charming. It looked positively hideous, and he hated it. It was a sign of his weakness, and a sign that everyone in his life that he would meet from this moment onwards would pity him. They would know that his life had ultimately ended in France.

"I could think of another word…" John replied bitterly.

"Now, John…" Maeve began, reaching out to cover his hand with her own, thrilled when he did not pull away as he had done a handful of times, and instead started to grip onto it tightly. "This may not have been the life you imagined. But it's the life you've been given now. And one day you will have to accept it. Now, will you show me how you fix it?"

John sighed loudly, but reached across for the prosthetic nevertheless. He twisted and turned so that his legs were hanging off the side of the bed and started to attach the prosthetic in its place, tying the strap around his leg and flexing out his leg.

"There you go," Maeve spoke enthusiastically. "And how does it feel to walk on it?"

"Like I have another man's leg." John looked down at his legs, but as he chanced a glance at his mother, he caught her eye. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that it felt like the end of the world. But he also did not want his mother to be burdened with such a confession.

However, John underestimated the powers of his mother. As soon as he had looked her in the eye, Maeve knew. And this time she made sure that her hand covered his completely, and she squeezed it reassuringly, bringing it to her lips as they began to quiver.

"You know I love you, son."

John closed his eyes, a lump in his throat threatening to tell all.

"I love you too, mam." He tried his hardest to keep the tears at bay.

He almost lost all control when he felt her hand reach up to cup his cheek, almost reminiscent to the times she had comforted him as a child – a safe boat when he had woken from nightmares during his childhood. He almost wished he was back there now.

"Let them help you, John. Please let them help you."

He could both hear and feel the fear in her voice.

"You know, Mrs Audrey had some bad news yesterday," Maeve began, and John instantly looked up to watch her speaking. Mrs Audrey was their next-door neighbour, and had been for the entire time the two of them had lived there, ever since they had both left Ireland when he was ten. "About Luke. He... He died, John. Just last week."

John felt his throat closing, a lump forming there. Luke had been around six years younger than him, but they had grown up together, he had taken him under his wing almost. Late afternoons exploring the streets and being scolded by their mothers for returning home late, handling bullies that Luke had encountered at school and sharing their troubles about neither having a father figure in their lives. That was until John had left home and married Vera. Then he rarely saw him. But he was still a permanent fixture whenever he visited his mother, always waving from the window. He had a sweetheart too. That he remembered.

"How?" John managed to croak. "How did it happen?"

"Julia didn't say. I only saw her briefly, she had some of the family with her."

Maeve turned to look at her son properly and noticed the unshed tears in his eyes.

"And what I'm going to say, love," Maeve began and John looked up and then down at his lap. She took his hand and squeezed it firmly. "I think you know." He briefly glanced up, confirming her suspicions. "You need to start living again, son. You need to live for these men you knew, those that aren't coming home. Those that weren't as lucky as you. Because you are lucky, John. Not as lucky as some, but you're alive. And right now that's more luck than a lot are getting."

John felt the first tear slip down his cheek, and then the next.

"Please, love. I'm not saying it will be easy. Far from it. And I can never hope to understand how you feel about all of this, but please try. And please understand that there are people who want to help. All you have to do is learn to accept it."

* * *

_Late March, 1917_

Anna titled up her head, attempting to catch the rare rays of sunlight in the late March weather from beneath her carefully fixed hat. It was rare these last few months to see any sun, so whenever it did appear she and Sybil vowed to make the most of it wherever they could. But that still did not eliminate the cold as a frosty breeze began to pick up.

As she thought of Sybil, it reminded her that she had to collect those certain apples from the market.

She rarely ventured into the heart of London unless she had the time off, she was with a friend or she was looking for something in particular. But when she could, she would come to Borough Market, one of the oldest and largest food markets in London. It was a lovely market and she and Sybil often came here to gather their food supplies weekly, often alone but if it chanced that the two of them had the same shift off they would come together and stop by a cafe too.

Anna was just leaving the bakery and crossing to the market stall where she would usually purchase their fruit when a familiar voice startled her briefly as they exclaimed her name.

"Why, Anna!" Anna turned to see Mrs Bates carrying a basket of her own, filled with fruits and vegetables. "How lovely to see you. I didn't know you came here."

Anna nodded and smiled. "It's lovely to see you, too. And we prefer it, better value."

"I've come here since we came to London. Great value," Maeve agreed, jostling the wicker basket in her arms.

"Where were you before?" Anna asked curiously.

"Ireland," Maeve explained. "We moved when John was ten, after his father passed."

Anna gave her a sympathetic smile, "I thought I detected an accent in there somewhere."

"We have picked up bits here and there. John's father was Irish, but my family was Scottish. And then of course there's living here for most our lives."

"I find my Yorkshire accent is quite enough." Anna joked.

Mrs Bates smiled and cast a motherly glance down at her basket and tutted at the current contents - sugary pastries of various shapes and sizes. Anna laughed at her reaction.

"You do eat properly, don't you? You both living on your own."

Anna shook her head, smiling. "We do. Don't you worry. As it happens, the bakery was my first stop, so you caught me at a bad time."

Mrs Bates smiled at her fondly, a smile that reached the corners of her eyes. "Well, now I've said it, you girls do need some meat on your bones."

Anna couldn't help it as she let out another peal of laughter.

"That's what I used to say to John, when he came home on leave before his... Well, his accident." Maeve allowed the moment to pass her by, however, and continued. "You young ones don't eat enough. And you wonder when you're cold."

She had noticed Anna shivering even from beneath her coat.

"Oh, I'm almost always cold. I did used to live up North," Anna teased light-heartedly.

Mrs Bates smirked, "Well, you just take care. Otherwise there'll be no one to look after my John."

Anna shared her smile. "How was he, when you last saw him?" Anna had not been in work for the past couple of days, having had them off.

"I saw him yesterday," Maeve revealed. "He seems a little... different. But in a good way. I'm not sure anything will be made of it though."

"Maybe it will," Anna suggested hopefully, clutching her basket closer to her chest as the cold picked up.

Maeve nodded almost solemnly. "I do hope so." Silence descended across the two of them for a few moments until the older woman spoke up, a little more loudly than before, "Well we best be moving, otherwise we'll freeze to death here." Anna laughed quietly. "Unless you fancy going for a brew? I know a lovely place."

Anna was instantly filled with regret, knowing that she had to decline. She still had the rest of their shopping to do, get back home, wash, ready herself for work and start on dinner so Sybil could take over just before she left. It was their routine of sorts whenever their shifts fell like this. She explained to Maeve and apologised.

"Don't be sorry, dear. You get on and get home. Otherwise this cold will do you more harm than good."

"Another time, though?" Anna asked, reaching out her spare hand to rest upon Maeve's wrist.

The older lady smiled, "Definitely. Now off you get. See you soon."

Anna bid Mrs Bates farewell and continued with her shop. It took her longer than usual to pay for the fruit, the queue taking a while because of a poor, old lady confused about the change she had on her, and when she returned home Sybil was already there.

"You're later than usual," Sybil commented, taking the baskets from her friend helpfully and placing them in their kitchen area.

The flat was very much an open space, one large room incorporating both the kitchen, living area and dining room, with the three adjoining rooms containing their separate bedrooms and a bathroom. The area was lovely though, and very spacious, and the light from the large bay window gave the room life, and the comfortable furniture and the decor the two of them had chosen made it homely. It made it theirs.

Anna smiled in thanks as she was offloaded the heavy baskets, "Some poor old lady couldn't count her change at the stall." Anna knew she was short for time, but regardless she sat herself down at their table and sighed in relief, finally being able to rest her feet, even after the short bus journey. "And I saw Mrs Bates. We got chatting for a while. It was lovely to see her again."

"That reminds me, your Sergeant Bates was quiet again today." Sybil spoke as she unpacked the shopping. "I thought he might have spoken to me, I mentioned papa, but he just seemed as distant as ever."

"He just needs time," Anna explained, before remembering the way Sybil had opened her sentence. "And he isn't my Sergeant Bates, Syb."

"Oh I know," Sybil replied, albeit with a knowing smile as she unpacked the pastries and set them aside on a plate. "But he just seems to get on better with you."

"Does he?"

Sybil gave her a look. "You know he does."

Anna wasn't quite sure if he did, but she let it slide.

But before Anna could say anything else, Sybil revealed, "That also reminds me, my father will be in London the day after tomorrow. He has leave and he will spend a day or two here before catching the train up to Yorkshire for the rest of it."

"Oh?" Anna asked, happy that Sybil had family visiting but not entirely sure why she sounded and looked quite suggestively at her. She offered, "Does he want to stay here for that time? I can spend a few nights in the nurse's home if he wanted to."

"Oh no, he will stay with my Aunt Rosamund, his sister." Anna nodded in acceptance and smiled. "But what I meant to say was he intends to visit Sergeant Bates while he is here."

Anna could feel her eyes widening, and then she smiled slightly. She wasn't quite sure how Sergeant Bates would take that, although she hoped to the heavens that it would help him. "Does he know?"

"I think so," Sybil replied. "Papa said he had written a letter to him."

Anna nodded and made a mental note to ask the Sergeant about it later when she saw him. Then Anna looked back up and saw Sybil looking at her suggestively again and decided to turn the tables and begin a new form of enquiry.

"Well how's your chauffeur back at home?"

"Stop it, Anna." Sybil didn't even turn around. But as Anna remained silent, she did turn around, but only to wave a menacing finger at her friend. "We have only written twice."

Anna raised her eyebrow.

"OK, maybe more than twice."

Anna smirked in victory.

"Stop it!" Anna found a dish cloth being thrown in her direction.

"Has he not been drafted yet?" Anna asked curiously as she picked off some fruit from the bowl and eased her hungry stomach.

"He said he went for his medical, but something about a heart murmur," Sybil explained. "Anyway, he was deemed fit to stay at home."

He was one of the lucky ones, Anna thought to herself. Seeing everything she did at the hospital, she knew the horrors that these men went through - or at least she knew the effects of them.

"Well what about your love life?" Sybil asked suddenly and Anna burst out laughing.

"Love life?" Her laughter died down, and she picked at another bit of fruit, popping it into her mouth as her thoughts became a little more poignant. "Love doesn't mix well with war."

Sybil looked across her at friend and frowned. She was about to say something in response when Anna suddenly stood and announced that she had better get ready for work, else she'd be late.

* * *

John sat up nervously in bed, wringing his hands together and often moving one of them to rub his neck as he waited for his visitor. He was used to visits from his mother now, and often an older cousin that lived in London and owned a bookshop, but this was different. He had read the letter a week or so ago and Nurse Smith has reminded him a few evenings ago on her shift, explaining that Sybil had informed her of Captain Crawley's plans.

And now he was nervous.

He knew as much from the letter Captain Crawley had sent that he had saved his life and that the slightly older man was incredibly grateful and considered himself to be in the debt of his Sergeant. _Former_. That was the only word that came to John's mind.

John also hated to be the centre of attention, and he knew that during and after the visit he would be. He did not want to be pitied because of it or considered a hero when he was anything but.

He rubbed his neck again, sighing loudly.

"Anything I can get for you, Sergeant Bates?"

Her voice appeared through the fog of his worrisome thoughts. Her voice was almost an anchor to hold onto and bring him to the surface as he felt himself falling towards the seabed. She just seemed to have that effect on him.

"A different life?"

John chanced eye contact with her and noticed that she was looking particularly mournful following his statement.

"Try not to think like that," Anna advised as she tucked his duvet around him and checked briefly that nothing was amiss. "Maybe there's a reason for you being here... of course it's a horrid thought, but my mother always said that things happen for a reason."

"So God thought there was a reason I should lose my leg? That I should be a cripple?" John raised his voice angrily.

"I've upset you," Anna stated.

John suddenly stopped being angry and looked at her carefully. He found his anger disappearing and he started to understand her point of view, slightly. He shook his head and sighed, "No, you haven't upset me. I just wonder why -"

"Bates, my dear fellow!"

Anna jumped and turned around to greet the man she knew to be Captain Crawley, momentarily chastising him for his abrupt arrival. She honestly thought Sergeant Bates had been about to talk to her.

"Sir," Bates acknowledged his superior with a nod and extended his hand for the other man to take and shake.

Anna excused herself with a curt nod and a smile in the direction of Sergeant Bates. John watched her go.

"How have you been?" Captain Crawley started, taking the liberty of sitting in the seat positioned next to Bates' bed. He then realised the enormity of the situation and his face fell. "Of course how careless of me."

"Not careless, sir. I've been fine." John responded, managing a tight smile.

"Have you, Bates?" He shifted uncomfortably, knowing that he had probably heard about his situation. But neither of them said anything more, suddenly seeming embarrassed and knowing that the conversation had probably fallen into uncomfortable territory. "You'll be glad to hear that William Mason is well. He has leave at the moment too, so he will be heading to Yorkshire to stay with his father for the duration." Bates smiled at this. "He had a lucky escape... that day. Cuts and bruises mainly."

"He's lucky."

"And so am I, Bates." Robert sighed and smiled. "I know I have written and thanked you, but I'm not sure if words could ever be enough. You saved my life."

"I wouldn't say -"

"Oh but I would. And I hoped that being able to move you along the list for your... replacement limb would go some of the way to expressing my gratitude." Robert watched as Bates looked away, not quite able to understand his expression. "And I know that my wife, and my girls, are grateful to you as well. And if there is anything, and by that I mean anything that I can do I should ask you to let me know. God knows this war has been making men out of us all, and I know for certain that you will come out of this, Bates."

Bates opened his mouth but did not know what to say.

"Because we have to, don't we? If the war has taught us anything, it is to appreciate all that we have left, because heaven knows they've had a good go at taking it away."

"They have, sir. But I must admit sometimes it's hard to see past this place... to see a future beyond it."

"But there is, Bates. There is a future for all of us. There must be. It's what I hold onto."

Bates saw that Robert was starting to get emotional. He shifted uncomfortably again but watched him carefully and was about to speak up when matron came over and interrupted.

"Sergeant Bates, it's time for your therapy session. Nurse Smith will take you over there."

Robert stood up and straightened his uniform. He coughed and turned to the matron.

"I should be going. I'm meeting my sister for some tea." He turned to Bates this time and spoke, "But remember what I said Bates, and do keep in touch. It will be nice to know how you are getting along."

"Thank you, sir. It's much appreciated."

* * *

It had been a week since he had received his prosthetic, and slowly he was becoming accustomed to walking with it, although he had still not been outside. He went to the classes that the matron strictly told him to go to, but apart from that he preferred to sit and read. Not going outside helped to make it all seem less _real. _Even if the news he had received in the last weeks made him start to think.

Today, however, he was struggling. He found that some days were better than others, and most of the time he would still use crutches. The feeling of having the prosthetic attached to his leg was still a foreign one, and it made it difficult to walk properly without stumbling. Sometimes he would use the crutches Nurse Smith left at his bedside – she always seemed to smile when he did – but since last week he had tried to manage without them.

He was attempting to walk to the small library and choose a new book. It was a room with very tall bookshelves, and John had only been once before but he had never felt more at home in his life when he walked in. It was like whenever he walked into a bookshop and felt a sense of homecoming. It was a place where he could spill his heart and no one would tell a soul.

But even as he clutched onto the wall for support down the corridor, he was struggling to keep his balance.

Unknown to him, someone was watching.

Anna stood at the other end of the corridor just ahead of him, having come this way to look for a book herself, and once she had seen him, she hung back a little. She noticed he was struggling, however she knew that if she made her presence known he would refuse any sort of help.

But regardless of his pride, she felt like she was starting to understand him. And she thought he might slowly be starting to accept her.

However, as he suddenly lost his balance and fell, she gasped, revealing her location.

As she rushed over to him, he looked up and winced as he saw her, "Sergeant Bates!"

He flinched as she attempted to help him up.

"No. Leave me. I can manage."

He was quite abrasive, but Anna had become used to it. She rose to her feet and stood to watch him struggle, his hands clutching at the walls as he attempted to regain his composure.

"I can do it on my own," he added as he was almost to his feet, just to prove himself.

"There is no need to struggle when there are people willing to help." She was met with a glare. Anna simply raised her eyebrows. "Where were you going?"

He muttered, "To the library."

"Well, at least let me show you the right way."

Anna smiled and placed a hand on his arm. It was warm. But he shook it off instantly, almost as if help was a scolding touch. Anna raised her hands in mock surrender as if to say 'fine' and nodded in the opposite direction to the one he had been going in.

When John realised that he had been walking the wrong way, he chastised himself. These corridors were so confusing it was no wonder he had forgotten the way.

They both walked there in silence, he walking slowly with his pronounced limp and Nurse Smith falling back into a comfortably slow walk to keep up with him. It angered him that she had to do that. He tried to walk a little faster, to show that he could manage, but Nurse Smith simply held onto his arm and kept him back.

He could not find the energy within him to shake her off. He accepted her helping touch and Anna found herself smiling, celebrating this tiny victory.

When they reached the library door, she moved to open it, and he watched her incredulously. When she turned to face him, he asked, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"I can manage on my own."

Anna rolled her eyes. "I have no doubt you can, Sergeant. But who says I wasn't coming this way for a book myself?"

He scowled.

"You're not the only one who reads, Sergeant Bates."

She pushed the door open further and motioned for him to enter before her, tongue in her cheek. He walked past her uncomfortably with a grimace and immediately set about finding his choice of book.

Anna followed him inside and closed the door behind them. She watched as he eyed up the room and seemed to fix on an area that might look of some interest to him. As he started to walk over to the section, she noticed that his choice was poetry.

And she found herself smiling. She had seen him reading poetry before, but now as she thought of it more closely, she could imagine him reading it. It suited him, somewhat. Anna found herself being pulled over to him.

When John realised that she had followed him over, he turned to her and scowled.

"Have you ever written it?" she asked, looking at the rather impressive collection before them. The donations that had been raised throughout the country funded for a vast collection of books. She scanned the collection for a title that would suit her tastes.

John laughed. "Poetry? Hardly."

"But you like to read it?"

He nodded.

"I find poetry the most imaginative, and inclusive," Anna revealed as she attempted to start a conversation. "It takes on a different meaning every time you read it."

"Quite," John replied, and he even found himself smiling. Talking about literature took his mind away from other things. It had always been a pleasurable escape for him.

He also found himself starting to pick up things about her. She could obviously read and write, she had received a good education. He found himself listening as she talked about her father, a farmer in Yorkshire, who had his own book collection. It was nothing large, but it was enough for him to be proud of, and as a child she would always enjoy scanning the titles. He wondered how old she must be.

Turning his attention away from the conversation, however, he looked back at the book he had chosen. It was a selection of Hardy poetry. Morbid at times, but still quite hopeful, or at least one could interpret it in that way. He thought that suited his mood perfectly.

Anna must have seen him eyeing the book though, because she suddenly grabbed the stool sat beside them and climbed upon it, her hand hovering over the area he had been looking to.

"No, I can–"

"Which one?" Anna asked in a light-hearted, almost sing-song, voice. He shook his head at her tenacity.

He mumbled the title and the author and she picked it out for him. She then turned around and handed it to him with a small, knowing smile from her unusual position above him. She remembered something her mother used to say. She remembered the conversation she had shared with Mrs Bates some weeks ago.

"Take it. Life becomes much easier when you learn to accept the help people are offering you, Sergeant. It makes you no lesser a person. And it doesn't mean others do either. That's what my mum says."

John found himself looking up into her eyes, and for the first time he realised that there was no pity there. She thought no less of him for his injury. All she wanted to do was help. Her eyes were shining and her smile was genuine.

"Thank you." He smiled and accepted the book.

* * *

Two days later when Anna was on her rounds, she noticed his empty bed with alarm, but when she looked over at the open doors leading out to the gardens, she noticed him stood beside them with the set of crutches she had given him, waiting for her with a small, shy smile.

* * *

**A/N (2): **Things will start looking up from here... sort of.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** A long chapter. Uni work has been so hectic, but I'm slowly getting ahead with these chapters. I hope you enjoy this one. Things start to get better.

* * *

**Thy Kingdom Come  
****Chapter Five**

* * *

_Early April, 1917_

Sergeant Bates had grown into walking in the gardens in a similar fashion to the growth of the flowers in the spring. His progress was starting to coincide with the better weather, and Anna had never been happier or prouder. His enthusiasm still wavered at times, depending on whether or not he had good or bad days, but that was something that Anna knew how to deal with. She also understood that there needed to be ups and downs, otherwise he would hardly be able to recognise when he experienced the good. Her mum had said that for all the bad things life threw at you, it just made you appreciate the good when it came along – to cherish it.

And the good was certainly starting to outweigh the bad.

It was a still, spring morning when Anna had met him at the doors once more to go for their usual walk outside. It had become a routine of theirs now. She would take a slow walk with him around the grounds, and he would slowly start to tell her more. It started with just talking about life in the hospital and his mother's visits, then about when he used to live with his mother, first in Ireland and then in London when they moved, and occasionally his feelings about the accident were brought up as they came and brimmed at the surface.

He often clammed up during those times, though, and their walks were cut short.

But Anna, if anything, was determined. She had to be, really, because Sergeant Bates was not this comfortable with any of the other nurses. He had even remarked that he would not have made _any _of this progress without her. Anna had blushed and tried to wave away his praise of her. The other nurses had also commented that she was the only one who was able to have any sort of effect on Sergeant Bates. They admired the way Anna had managed to open up the quiet and reserved Sergeant, and therefore they tended to leave him in her capable hands. It seemed to work that way, because Sergeant Bates felt uncomfortable and was therefore mostly unresponsive to the rest of them.

"You get better every day," Anna praised him as John started to walk unaided, his crutches having been left on the bench just a few short metres away. He would always have to use a cane, Anna suspected.

He was starting to walk without them a lot better, although it was still a struggle sometimes. And there were better days than others. Often this depended on the weather. Other times it was just the luck of the day.

"It feels odd," John smiled at her.

Anna shook her head and smiled wistfully. "I can't really begin to imagine."

She watched as he was evidently in thought for a moment. Anna found herself smiling at the way he looked when he was so deep in thought. The fresh air seemed to have brought about a change in the Sergeant, and he looked younger. His hair swept to one side in the light breeze and hung across his forehead.

"It feels like... something is just there. You never had to think about walking before, but now you do. It's like having a child at your side that you always have to keep an eye on."

Anna smiled at his analogy. The fact that he was starting to think of his injury in that way showed her that he was slowly beginning to become more accepting of his leg, and in that his new life.

"Do you have children?" Anna asked suddenly. She realised that she knew nothing of his past, except from what he had told her and from the facts she had read in his medical records. His mother had hinted at some things, but she had never divulged, and Anna had never felt comfortable asking her to do so. The trick of business was to mind her own, another of her mum's sayings.

The question seemed to shock him momentarily, until he smiled and raised his eyebrows, "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know," Anna shrugged shyly. "I suppose the way you described your leg, it made me think."

John shook his head. "No, I never had children. Although looking back, I suppose that might have been a good thing. My relationship with my ex-wife was hardly the type to bring a child into."

Now Anna was the one who looked surprised.

"You have a wife?"

"_Ex _wife."

Anna shook her head, as if to forget her slip of the tongue so soon after he had told her. "I'm sorry. About your marriage, I mean."

"Don't be," Sergeant Bates smiled slightly. "It was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then. I am glad it ended, really. It brought out the worst in me."

Anna found no way of responding, and instead watched him. She briefly remembered a time when his mother had mentioned a dark period in his life before the war. However, she knew their conversation was straying into a deeply personal patch and that she should probably switch the direction before either of them said anything to make each other uncomfortable. But it seemed that Sergeant Bates was on the same page, because he spoke up and changed the subject.

"So, how did you enjoy _Wuthering Heights_?"

Anna looked at him, slightly confused. She was quite certain that she had not divulged any information of her latest book choice to him.

Sergeant Bates soon cleared up her confusion, noticing her facial expression. "I saw you choosing it in the library the other day."

Anna listened and almost laughed. She raised her eyebrows. "I didn't realise I had an audience, Sergeant."

Her heart leapt as he chuckled in response. Such a change from the man she had first met. A man who was starting to realise that he still had a purpose in life. This was definitely one of the 'better' days.

"So, how did you find it?"

"You mean how am I still finding it?" Anna remarked. "I got several chapters in, and I've almost given up. I swear, I might be a Yorkshire girl, but that dialect..."

She trailed off in laughter, and she found herself stopping and simply smiling as Sergeant Bates had too.

"I wouldn't have had you down for a quitter," John teased, walking to and stopping by the bench, using his hand to steady himself.

Anna smiled at him as she came to sit down, folding her hands in her lap. "I like to save myself for the things worth fighting for. At least that's what my mum always told me to do."

Their gaze burned with the unspoken between them. It made John think about the situation, the past months, and he turned. The pain swept across him once, rearing its ugly head and penetrating his better moments. He changed the subject again, "My mother is due to be visiting later, will you be around?"

Anna smiled, her eyes brightened and she nodded. "I should be."

"She likes you," John smiled, manoeuvring himself to sit on the bench beside her. His mood could always be brightened with talk of his mother. "I'm starting to think she comes to see you more than me. You're the first person she asks after." John teased her, although he knew with great certainty that it was true about his mother liking Anna... _Nurse Smith, he corrected himself. _

Anna couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing. John marvelled at the sight of her hand on her stomach in a feeble attempt to control herself and the corners of her eyes filling with happy tears. He couldn't help but join her, it was infectious.

He loved watching her laugh, and generally it would be enough for him to join her. He liked that. Hardly anyone had been able to make him laugh before, not properly. Vera had never...

John stopped himself. Comparing Nurse Smith and Vera was straying into dangerous waters. Not that there would _be _any comparison, but there was nothing to justify it. He simply enjoyed her company. She made him feel like a better man. Or maybe she _had _made him a better man. She was the second woman in his life to do that.

John shook himself and absently noticed that Anna - Nurse Smith - had stopped laughing and was now watching him curiously.

"What?" John asked.

"She's proud of you. Your mother. She knows how far you've come." John looked down, his cheeks burning. Anna remained silent for a few moments, watching the red in his cheeks with a slight smile. She was proud of him too. The progress he had made was incredible. She had assumed it had been a number of reasons that had prompted his sudden change, or a culmination of them. Anna found that a lot of her patients had been like that, it just happened at different times. And it took time, so much time.

But if Anna had plenty of anything, it was time.

She had been spending a lot of timewith Sergeant Bates. She had even gone and taken up Mrs Bates' offer for tea the other week, and she was sure it would happen again. She had been interested in seeing his childhood home, she had even noticed the photographs of him in his younger days. From those few photographs she had been able to see his transformation from a boy to a man, and it had sent a strange but not uncomfortable feeling through her body. Sometimes she wondered if this meant she was spending too much time with him, and that he may be becoming too reliant on her. But since she felt so much more carefree whenever she was with him, she ignored it.

Anna suddenly felt a hand covering hers on her lap. She looked up to see him smiling down at her sympathetically. He also let her forget the memories she wanted to keep at bay.

"Something on your mind?"

Anna smiled. She squeezed his hand. "Nothing for you to worry over."

He looked at her despairingly but shook his head and dropped the issue regardless.

Anna was now conscious of their joined hands and distractedly checked the watch hanging from her breast pocket. She was also aware of the other soldiers shouting, coming from the lawn only several feet away.

"We should be getting back. Doctor Clarkson and matron wanted to check on your progress today."

John sighed. Progress only ever meant being able to leave here faster. Living here meant diving head first back into reality, and he wasn't sure he could float without her there to help.

"Come on," Anna teased him. "I'm sure you've dealt with worse."

"Worse than matron?" Sergeant Bates replied, slowly working his way up into a standing position, managing quite well even without her help. But whilst it was not physical assistance, her being here made him feel _able_.

Anna laughed, waiting until he took her arm as usual. Often he would not need it, but he held onto her anyway. And the important thing was that it was his choice to, and that he felt able to accept her help. When he looped his arm through and they started walking, she began to speak, "Matron isn't so bad. She may seem formidable, but she is anything but. She's only strict because she cares."

John smiled. "She cares about you."

"Do you think?"

"Even a matron must have her favourites." They continued to walk as they spoke.

"She did take me under her wing when I first arrived. I remember..." Anna faltered and he stopped them, craning his neck to look her in the eyes. She shook her head. John noticed that her eyes seemed darker, that she was hiding something behind them. "It doesn't matter."

"Are you sure?" John asked, concerned.

Anna shook her head. "It's fine, honestly." She turned to look at him, bestowing him with a quick smile, not like the ones he was used to, but a smile nonetheless. "Now come on, we best not be late."

John relented and followed her back.

* * *

_Two weeks later_

The days were slowly starting to get better. John would start to feel more comfortable within himself and around Anna, so much so that he would offer to hold her arm when they took their regular walks around the extensive hospital grounds. The small patch of woodland that had been nurtured for years was one of their favourite places to walk. It was sheltered and it gave Sergeant Bates some of the much needed privacy that he longed for and found so important for his rehabilitation, and it also gave Anna the opportunity to see the true John Bates.

However, today was proving to be a more difficult day.

As they made their way through the trees, arm in arm, Anna could sense he was struggling. He had gritted his teeth and his limp was even more pronounced than usual. If it was not for her, the cane that he had started to prefer using would have been taking his full weight.

It was these times - the times when he struggled and started to feel the light fading at the end of the tunnel - that he would become reluctant to let her help again. He wanted to prove he could do this alone; that he had made the progress and he was not going to fall behind again. Anna knew this would be part of his recovery, but it made it no easier to watch. John unhooked his arm and tried to start walking alone and regain his composure. But the task proved a little too difficult, and during the struggle his foot caught on a rock on the pathway.

He stumbled, falling forwards, but Anna just about managed to reach for him, partly breaking his fall but finding herself on the ground as a result, his weight crushing her slightly.

Anna felt her ankle twist unnaturally and she let out a slight gasp of pain. Or more like a hitch in her breath. Then she felt Sergeant Bates stiffen and rushed to scramble to his feet, hissing painfully himself.

"Sergeant Bates..." Anna began, knowing already that she would have to reassure him.

"I'm so sorry," he choked, his fist clenching and grasping onto the nearby wooden bench, using it as leverage.

"It's fine," Anna insisted. She had managed to get to her feet, although she struggled slightly with her left ankle. But when she placed more weight on it she realised it was not twisted or worse broken, most likely a light sprain or heavy bruising.

She reached out to help Sergeant Bates, although as he held out his hand and insisted that he was fine and could manage by himself, Anna conceded. She glanced briefly at the ground beside them and noticed his discarded cane. She walked over and collected it before turning around, noticing that he was now stood upright, using the bench for support.

Anna smiled at him and approached the bench, offering him the cane with her outstretched arm. He noticed her limping slightly.

"I hurt you," John observed, taking the cane from her, their hands brushing slightly as he nodded in silent gratitude.

Anna waved away his concerns. "It's nothing."

"No, it was my fault."

Anna motioned to the bench, for both of them to sit for a moment. They both needed it.

She could feel the tension in the air today. Some days were like this. Sergeant Bates had made flourishing progress as of late, and although he would often be on the end of sneer remarks from Sergeant Barrow, Anna watched proudly as he brushed them aside with a seemingly practiced ease. His rehabilitation classes were progressing well too, some of the other nurses, including Sybil, telling her that he had been doing well on her days off. Not so much with talking to the others - he seemed most comfortable speaking only with her - but physically he was doing well. He only needed reassurance every so often that he was not a nuisance, or a waste of her time. That was happening less frequently, but still it happened. Mrs Bates had told her that he hated to be considered a liability, or having others see him in a weakened state, so in a way she understood his actions. Reassurance was the key.

"Honestly, you mustn't worry."

Anna turned her head to look at him, his head bent and looking at his lap. He sighed loudly.

"You must find it pathetic," John began, sounding far too much like the man she had first met for Anna's liking. "Teaching a grown man how to walk."

Anna sighed. When Sergeant Bates did not turn his head, Anna reached out and touched his wrist. Suddenly the breeze around them disappeared. He looked at her too, their eyes meeting.

She gave him an exasperated look and raised her eyebrows. "I've told you once and I'll tell you a hundred times more. No, it isn't," she paused for a moment and he was watching her sincerely. He hung on her every word. After a moment or so considering her next words, Anna spoke. She hardly even realised that her hand was still resting on his wrist. "I had an uncle, he's gone now, a few years ago."

He could see the briefest flash of pain and mourning in her eyes. Yet another secret behind those kind eyes. He suspected there were more than a few.

"He was in Africa, fighting the Boers. He came home with shrapnel in his knee, he'd been shot. He had to walk with a cane, and he struggled. I don't think it ever really stopped hurting him, but he managed. He was one of the bravest men I ever knew." John watched as a lone tear fell from her eye. He knew she was fighting to contain the rest. "Because he cared, he cared so much about what people thought, about looking weak and having to rely on others so much. But he rose above it. He learned to appreciate the things in life that mattered most and not to live his life like a man who had lost his purpose. Because he still had things to fight for."

John listened and his heart ached. His heart ached because she had felt pain. But it also lifted at the same time because she had the strength to turn that pain into something else. And so had the man she had clearly looked up to.

"What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that you sacrificed yourself, willingly, and fought for your country. You may not see yourself as an honourable man, Sergeant Bates, but I can tell you your country does. Your mother does." John closed his eyes painfully. He wanted to, for her, he really did. But it was just so hard. It was hard to live with it; to accept it. "Your men do. _I _do. And maybe once you start believing it yourself..."

"I can what, find a way to live my life like this?" John whispered hoarsely, his eyes filling with unshed tears. He looked down, not wanting her to see him like this. "Alone with no leg and no chance of work."

"You can find work somewhere." Anna reassured. She knew he needed that push, just like her uncle did when he first came home. She had been young at the time, but she remembered the change in him even at a young age. "And you're not alone."

John looked up, his eyes red. Anna moved her hand from his wrist to his palm, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Living with my mother at my age..."

She looked at him in that exasperated manner again. Anna had tears in her eyes too. "You still have your own life to live. You have your friends..."

John laughed. "I lost a lot of those some time ago."

Anna looked at him, a little perplexed.

"Being an angry drunk doesn't keep you many friends." He could see as Nurse Smith's eyes widened slightly. "Have I shocked you?"

Anna wasted no time in smiling and shaking her head. "No. I find that nowadays nothing can shock me like before."

John managed a slight smile. Her opinion meant everything, and even now he wasn't sure why. He looked down and took notice of their joined hands. He had to admit, he had found a friend in her. Whilst he knew this was her job - it was how she earned a living - he knew that she cared, and that he could rely on her. It felt as though she was there every day - whenever he woke up and fell asleep - and when she wasn't there, there was a huge, gaping hole. And if he could make it through this for anyone besides his mother, it would be for her.

"No smelling salts needed in your home then."

Anna grinned. "Only for my flat mate."

John attempted to change the subject then, and Anna noticed his discomfort and let him. The two of them talked about their lives in London, and Anna's latest visit to his mother. Anna also revealed some information about her flatmate, Sybil, and the two of them fell into a comfortable talk. It seemed that whenever they started, it was difficult to stop. Anna began to reveal to Sergeant Bates about Sybil's attempt at hiding her correspondence with the chauffeur at home (Tom, she briefly remembered that name ringing a bell). Sergeant Bates laughed and commented that her father must be _thrilled _about that. Anna laughed along with him, until he asked,

"So do you have anyone special in your life?"

Anna was momentarily shocked at his line of questioning, but she didn't really have time to be. Automatically she found herself blushing and shaking his head.

"No one has time for love in war."

Even the mention of that word made them both realise that they were in unchartered territory. Anna also realised the contradictory nature of her statement given their previous line of conversation and quickly changed the subject.

"We should carry on," Anna exclaimed suddenly, standing up, although she wobbled slightly at the pressure on her ankle.

She watched his face fall. "You should get that looked at."

"Only if you stop blaming yourself."

John rolled his eyes. "Unfair tactics, Nurse Smith."

"A trick I've picked up over the years."

John laughed along with her, slowly standing up himself and commenting that they made quite the pair as they both started to limp back. Anna was elated when he took her arm for support without even having to offer, and they enjoyed the walk back in comfortable conversation. John occasionally stole a glance at her as they walked, and smiled to himself, acknowledging that even during his darker days when he found things increasingly difficult to manage, she was there to chase the clouds away and brighten his spirits.

* * *

A few days later, Anna took the familiar path down the street in the midst of the busy London streets. She had taken the bus from Roehampton and her flat with Sybil further into the city, and she was now on her way to see Mrs Bates for tea again. Ever since she had first accepted Mrs Bates' offer of tea Anna has been taking fairly regularly visits there on her days off. She would not admit so out loud, but being with Mrs Bates in her home reminded her of the farm she had grown up in back in Yorkshire, and the atmosphere in the simple, cosy, family home made her yearn for something that seemed to be missing.

Quite what that was, Anna still felt she had to discover.

She knocked on the front door and only a minute later she was greeted with a wide smile, the older woman clearly pleased to see her.

"Anna!" Maeve exclaimed, enveloping Anna in a firm hug. Anna hugged her back, her arms tightening around her back, her head nestling on her shoulder. This woman had really become a dear friend to her.

"It's lovely to see you, Mrs Bates."

Maeve pulled back and slapped her light-heartedly on the shoulder. "Now, what did I say about calling me Maeve?"

Anna smiled sheepishly. "It's a habit I can't seem to fall out of."

Maeve rolled her eyes but soon stepped aside, inviting Anna into her home. Anna smiled graciously and walked through, past the stairs and towards the kitchen as Mrs Bates called out, "I just put the kettle on, so tea shan't be long. Are you hungry, dear? Can I get you anything to eat?"

Anna had walked straight through to the kitchen, intent on helping her in some way. She knew Mrs Bates would only insist that she could take care of it, but Anna was a nurse by profession, and her hands were never idle as a result. Her mother did always say that idle hands were the devil's workshop.

"I had some lunch just before I came," Anna insisted. She turned around as Maeve followed her into the kitchen. Anna leant against the kitchen table and smiled at the older woman.

"Well, I did some baking this morning anyhow. So we have some cake to get through." Anna almost laughed. Mrs Bates was quite a force to be reckoned with when it came to food. "You could take some for John, too. If that's allowed, of course."

Anna smiled at the woman's careful consideration and dear love for her son. "I'm sure that won't be a problem."

"Good," Maeve set to work preparing the tea, ignoring any attempts Anna made to help, claiming that she worked so many hours she deserved her tea made for her once in a while. She also insisted Anna took off her hat.

Once Maeve had finished preparing the tea and had cut a couple of slices of Victoria Sponge, she nodded her head towards the front room.

"We can sit in there, if you like." Maeve expressed in her notably Irish tongue.

"Of course," Anna agreed. "But let me take this." Anna took the tray holding the tea pot and their cups, fixing the older woman with a determined look. Mrs Bates simply rolled her eyes but settled with bringing the cake through for them.

Anna shuffled through the hallway with the tray and went into the cosy sitting room, the lamp lit softly in the corner and the walls adorned with art and the mantelpiece containing the photographs she had seen on her previous visits. She settled the tray on the table in the centre of the room and turned around to ensure that Maeve was managing all right with the cakes.

Once satisfied, and once Maeve had motioned for her to sit, Anna took a seat on the chair she had settled in last time. Anna relented when Maeve ensured that she poured their tea, adding the little drop of milk that Anna liked. Heaven knows she needed her tea strong when she had her early morning shifts.

"So, tell me about John. I feel like I haven't seen him for days." Maeve began. They always found that talking of John set their conversations off quite well, and then after that they would go on to talk about anything and everything that came to their mind.

"He's well," Anna nodded, taking a sip of her tea before placing the cup and saucer down on the tray. "As we said before, some days prove better than others. But most now are starting to look better. We're very proud of the progress he's made."

"You're not the only ones." Maeve smiled, and Anna could see the relief that had presented itself in her eyes. She looked lighter, if that was the right phrase. As though the weight of the world was not necessarily all on her shoulders anymore. Of course, as a mother it was her job to fuss over her son, and Anna had a feeling she always would, but now that the future was starting to look a little brighter, Anna could see the changes in Maeve.

"He is doing well, matron is impressed." Anna continued. "And I'll be back in later on this evening, so I can check on him for you."

Maeve smiled at her thoughtfulness, but afterwards she also scowled. "You mustn't work yourself too hard, dear." Maeve could see that Anna was a hard worker, and sometimes she noticed the dark circles under her eyes. "You must look after yourself."

"I'm too busy looking after other people," Anna laughed, hoping that her amusement would lead them away from this topic.

Unfortunately, it didn't.

"Never mind that. You need to make sure you're looking after yourself." Maeve continued sternly. Anna knew what Sergeant Bates meant now when he talked about his mother and her fussing. "You need mothering sometimes." Anna smiled at the older lady. "Will you visit your family soon? How are they?"

Anna was glad for the change of subject and indulged Mrs Bates. She replied that she had not made any plans as of yet to visit home, she was far too busy, to which Maeve looked at her sternly. Anna then told her about her brother over in France, and how she had received a letter from him just the other week. He was doing as well as he could be, considering the situation all of the men found themselves in. None of them could really be classed as 'doing well' over there, but hope was found even in the darkest of times, and Anna was simply glad of news that James was alive and well.

Maeve smiled sympathetically.

The older woman then fell silent for a moment, as though she was contemplating her next sentence. Anna watched her thoughtfully before Maeve eventually spoke up. She sighed, "I know John is suffering," Anna watched her curiously. "And for the life of me I'd do anything to turn back time and take his pain away." Anna watched as her eyes filled with tears for her son, and she reached across to take her hand and squeezed it softly. Maeve looked up and smiled at Anna in thanks. "But I am glad he is home. That he's alive."

"It doesn't make you a bad person to think that way." Anna wasn't sure if it would help, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

"Doesn't it?" Maeve asked. "Because I know he suffers, and he hates it."

"He's becoming a lot more accepting of his situation," Anna offered.

Maeve sniffed and withdrew her hand from Anna's hold to take out her handkerchief and dry her eyes. "I know. And that does make it easier. It makes everything a whole lot easier."

Maeve suddenly grew increasingly self conscious (Anna noticed a lot like her son did and couldn't help but smile at the resemblance) and instead drew attention to something else after finishing her cup of tea.

"How's that ankle of yours?"

Anna was still limping a little, although she insisted that it was much better, and that she was fine to walk on it. It just became a little sore towards the end of the day, but she was adamantly sure that would fade with the bruising.

"He feels extremely guilty about it." Anna felt odd calling him Sergeant Bates in front of his mother, but she also could not call him John. That would be altogether too odd. So she often stuck with 'he' and Maeve always understood her meaning. There was never really any other 'he' that they _could _be talking about. "But I'm fine."

Maeve grunted a little, and Anna could tell the woman was not convinced. Anna looked down to get away from her resolute gaze and fixed her eyes upon the plates and the empty cups and saucers.

"So fine, in fact, that I can help you clear up in the kitchen."

Maeve opened her mouth in an attempted bid to start the argument, but Anna stood up quickly and started placing the items onto the tray that needed to be cleaned.

"Very well, I see you're not going to take no for an answer." Maeve stood up too.

Anna looked up, caught her eye and smirked.

"You're as bad as John."

Anna laughed heartily. For some reason she didn't mind the comparison.

Anna started to carry the tray through into the kitchen, Maeve bringing through the teapot and opening the doors for her, making her quick journey easier. Anna felt her heart stirring at the resemblance to being back in Yorkshire, in her childhood home, with her mother and father, and Cathy and James. It was only now that she realised how much she missed them.

"So how are you girls at the moment? How's living in that flat?" Maeve asked after she had insisted Anna dry while she washed the pots.

"Much the same," Anna smiled as she took a nearby cloth and started to dry before placing them onto the sideboard to be put back away in their rightful place. "Sybil is still talking to her chauffeur back home. She thinks I don't know, but I noticed the letters."

"A chauffeur, eh?" Maeve joked.

Anna laughed along, although it faded as she recalled how much it made Sybil smile to receive a letter. Her face lit up. Her cheeks had an altogether different glow, and any foul mood brought about often by lack of sleep or a stern telling off from matron was instantly pushed aside.

"He's Irish apparently," Anna revealed.

"A fair few choose to come over here now, God bless them. Heaven help her when the family find out about that though. The world might be thinking differently in this war, but not that differently. Not yet anyway."

Anna smiled sadly. But she did not let it cloud her for long.

"She's strong though, is Sybil. She knows what she wants."

There must have been a hint of something in her voice because in the following moment Maeve spoke, "And what about you, love? Do you know what you want?"

Anna did not respond for a moment, only turned to stare at Maeve before looking back down at her hands. She smiled, hoping that it would not betray her, and she turned back to the older woman and responded quietly, "I have everything I need."

Maeve looked as though she wanted to say something else. But she evidently changed her mind, and instead broke the unnerving silence with a topic that she knew would not be a struggle for either of them. Although she had started to get to know Anna well, there was a line that Maeve would rather not cross.

"Well, at least you're happy." Maeve said it as more of a question, and Anna smiled and nodded in answer. "And I have my John back, in no doubt thanks to you."

Anna looked away shyly. The statement was true, there was no doubt about that. But whilst Anna knew that Maeve had made such a profound effect on her son's recovery, Anna was well aware of how close she and him had become. And sometimes it worried her.

"And don't you forget that." Maeve added, moving her dried hands to rest upon Anna's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Anna looked up and smiled. She was reminded of her own mother whenever she spent time like this with Maeve, and her next sentence just came out, "I _do _miss home sometimes, and my mother." Maeve watched her with some sympathy, her hand remaining in her shoulder. "It's nice, to know you. That we can do this." Anna admitted.

"I enjoy it too." Maeve returned.

"It's great, living with Sybil. But it's still not quite home." Anna was surprised when she admitted that. It was something that had been manifesting itself ever since she had left home. And whilst she thoroughly enjoyed her work and her life down here, something was missing.

Maeve smiled, and with the wisdom of a woman her age who had seen the world and experienced enough of it to know these things, she replied, "Your heart needs to find its home. Then everything will fall into place. You'll see."

Anna laughed a little nervously. "My heart is the last thing on my mind right now."

"Is it, dear?" Maeve asked, and Anna averted her eyes to look out of the kitchen window. "Should it ever be?"

Anna couldn't give her an answer. But somewhere inside she knew she would need to find out.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Sorry it's taken so long to update, in between University assignments and exams I just haven't had the time (I know that's always the excuse, meh) but it's summer now! Thank you so much for the continuing reviews, I love to read every one, and to all of those who still read this, I hope you enjoy this next chapter, I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

**Thy Kingdom Come  
****Chapter 6**

* * *

_May 1st, 1917_

Maeve Bates watched the festivities from a bench at the side of the vast lawn at the hospital. She had a glass of homemade lemonade in her hand after Anna had insisted on fetching her a drink, and the older lady smiled as she watched some younger girls starting to set up the maypole.

The weather was almost certainly living up to the hopes and expectations of all present, and the annual May Day celebrations were starting to take flight. The bank holiday often brought many people together for communal fetes, and today Maeve could almost believe all was right in the world. The gathering mostly comprised of the hospital staff, patients, and their relatives, however there were at least two dozen volunteers from the local church. Maeve banished the thought from her mind that some people had refused to come, she knew that there was an instilled fear of the men here and their 'conditions' and whilst she had dismissed any care for that thought long ago, people still held these beliefs. However, she enjoyed seeing the joyful smiles on the faces of relatives as they spent the much sought after time with their sons, safely in the knowledge that she felt just the same. _They were the lucky ones_, Maeve thought to herself. The other possibilities were unthinkable. That was one of the main thoughts that had kept her going these last months, when all hopes had seemed to vanish.

But as she thought of the men, she caught sight of John as he walked from the refreshments stand with Anna. Maeve smiled as she watched them both together, deep in conversation as John began to use his hand as he explained a matter to the nurse with evident passion, a trait she remembered his father having had. A mother would always be proud of her children, but Maeve would have argued that no mother could feel as proud of their son as she did for John, especially in recent times. His progress had developed magnificently, and as she watched him now he walked with his cane, unless she thought about it, she hardly noticed his limp. Of course John would always have a limp, and sometimes the prosthetic would bother him more times than others, but he was progressing brilliantly into the new life he had been forced to lead, even matron and Doctor Clarkson had praised his progress.

Although Maeve was fully aware that had it not been for Anna, none of this would have happened.

Her eyes drifted onto the nurse now. She noticed that her eyes had lit up as John started speaking – clearly both of them were enjoying this conversation – and in that particular moment Anna laughed and threw her head back. The sun shone across her, and she looked almost angelic. In a way, she was an angel. _She had been for John_, Maeve thought. And for her. God was indeed good to have sent her to them. Maeve had tried to look after the girl as much as possible since, realising that she was alone in London with her family so far away. But that was not the only thing. Maeve noticed a different look about Anna sometimes, and it worried her. It made her even more determined to bring her under her wing and protect her from the harshness of the world, as it could be.

But for now, the girl was indeed happy. Her blonde hair was shining in the sun today, and it was fully on show now because of the absence of her nurse's cap. Anna had not been due to work today, so she wore her casual clothes. She was wearing a lovely light blue dress that suited her perfectly, and the dress flitted out at the bottom, presumably one of the latest fashions for the young ones, Maeve thought with a smile. Anna had also added some fresh daisies to her hair style, woven into the styled curls. The simplicity of the nurse's beauty had taken Maeve's attention the first time she had met her, and she had known from the beginning that Anna had an exceptionally kind soul. Her mutual respect had only grown for the younger woman in the months she had known her, a friendship having formed between them undoubtedly.

And Maeve noticed the way her son looked at her. She had seen that look before, and whilst she would never reveal her findings to either her son or Anna, at least not yet, she was allowed to have hope. Earlier when Maeve had arrived at the hospital with Anna, having caught her walking just as she had climbed off the bus, she noticed the way John had looked at her. His eyes had shone in a way she had never seen before, especially when she remembered his time with Vera, and the smile that graced his lips, rising to the corners of his eyes, had been a sight to behold. She knew her son held Anna in very high regards, but just quite so high Maeve was sure she would discover in the months to come.

Her son and his smiles had become a rare occurrence for Maeve, and as a mother who had journeyed with her son throughout his past grievances and difficulties, she ensured to take each one of them as a gift.

"You look deep in thought over here," John spoke jovially as he came to sit over with his mother. Maeve was pulled from her cheerful thoughts as she looked up to see both John and Anna stood beside her. She smiled warmly at them both. "Nurse Smith wondered if you would like a refill."

Maeve looked down at her glass, and was content with the fact that it was still half full. "I still have some left," Maeve then turned to address Anna. "You should rest, dear. Relax. Enjoy the day, it's supposed to be your day off."

Anna laughed lightly, taking a seat beside Maeve and John on the bench. "You know me, I can't keep still for more than a few moments."

Maeve shook her head and rolled her eyes. She noticed that this caused John to smirk too.

"So what have you two young uns been talking about?"

Anna turned to face John and smiled. "I'm not even sure really," she laughed, taking a sip of her lemonade. "Some of the girls were trying to get me to join the dancing."

"Oh but you should!" Maeve exclaimed. "You told me the other week that you enjoyed dancing, and you mentioned your ankle was much better." Anna and Maeve had taken tea again at her home the other week, and their topic of conversation had broached the festivities today.

"Which is exactly what I said," John added lowly, craning his head and giving Anna a pointed look. Maeve watched the interaction with a smile.

Anna's smile grew wider, and both mother and son knew that it would only be a matter of time before she would be up and dancing with the others, especially if the deep blush on her cheeks was anything to go by.

They continued to talk about anything and nothing until only a handful of minutes before the main festivities would start, and when one of the younger nurses came across to persuade Anna to join them, it only took her a little persuading to leap off her feet and join the others in the centre of the lawn.

Maeve watched her go with a smile, and when she turned to look at her son she recognised him wearing the same look. As the music started and the participating women – mostly the nurses – began, Maeve watched as her son's eyes remained fixed on a certain dancer. Maeve watched the dancing herself and smiled, tapping her foot along to the music, her mind casting back to some similar events in her childhood back in Scotland, and years later in Ireland with her son and husband. She became immersed in the dancing, and soon found that not only her feet were moving to the music, but her upper body swayed too.

Her eyes drifted from one girl to another, smiling at their clear enthusiasm for the day. It was a centuries old festivity when the coming of summer and the dismissing of winter would be celebrated. Maeve also noticed the May Queen, supposed to be a replica of Flora, who sat and watched the dancing. It was such an innocent occasion, and she supposed that for today at least a lot of the men here would be able to forget their horrid pasts and enjoy the time they could spend with their families and each other.

At this thought, she turned to look at John. Maeve smiled at the colour in his cheeks and the smile across his lips. Following his line of sight, she noticed who was at the centre of his attention.

"Isn't she marvellous, John?" Maeve was now looking at Anna again, her hair floating in the light breeze as she bounced lightly on her feet, dancing as though it was her profession. It suited her so perfectly, and the pink hue to her cheeks matched the wide, breathless smile she wore.

"Yes. She is marvellous."

The passion with which her son had responded struck Maeve. However, she did not turn to him or say anything more. She simply smiled at the knowledge that someone had managed to bring her son from the darkness he had been unfairly plummeted into. Instead the two of them continued to watch as the dance slowly petered out.

* * *

Anna finished the dance, slightly breathless from her endeavours. She had noticed Maeve and Sergeant Bates watching her in the distance, and her cheeks had flushed. Anna was fairly sure she must look a sight right now, and slowly made her way over to the refreshments stand as she decided to acquire another cool glass of lemonade.

Some of the men were over by the table as she approached, and all of them smiled and congratulated her on the dance. Anna was also soon joined by some of the other nurses – some in and out of uniform – including Sybil and Jane.

"What fun!" Sybil exclaimed and clapped her hands together.

"A very good job, nurse," one of the soldiers complimented her.

"I feel as though I have even more energy to burn," Sybil laughed. Anna was rather envious that the younger woman was not nearly as breathless as her.

Another of the soldiers stepped forwards, Private Foster, throwing a football in one hand, his other bandaged. "Why don't we set up a game?" He motioned to the football.*

Sybil turned to Anna. "Anna, what do you say?"

Anna smiled and shook her head at her enthusiasm. She felt as though she could hardly refuse though. "Go on then, fetch some more people. I'll go and leave this over there." Anna motioned to her glass of lemonade and promptly walked across to the bench where Sergeant Bates and Maeve were sat. She noticed them both smiling at her as she came over.

"That was wonderful, dear." Maeve congratulated her.

Anna smiled bashfully. "Thank you."

John simply stared. There was nothing he could do to help it. He was quite positive that Nurse Smith was impossible – a creature made of quicksilver and light. He felt as though he must have done something good in this life or a former life to deserve a saving grace like her. Now that he thought about it, it could only ever have been her.

Then she turned to address him, and he coughed awkwardly, hoping she had not caught him staring.

"Some of the others were going to set up a game of football. Just a silly thing, nothing serious. You should come over and join us."

John noticed that some of the soldiers were gathering together some crutches in order to play, others being a little more mobile. However, he shook his head albeit meekly.

"It was never really my game. Maybe another time."

Anna tilted her head and narrowed her eyes teasingly. But she smiled regardless and placed her glass down beside the bench. "I shall hold you to that. I won't forget."

"I don't expect you will." John teased her.

If there was anything he knew about Nurse Smith, it was that she never gave up without a fight. And she never forgot.

* * *

_Early May, 1917_

Sergeant Bates was continuing to progress with his rehabilitation brilliantly. Anna continued to be pleasantly surprised at his newfound enthusiasm and vigour. There were still occasional moments when something said or done would strike him, and he would be taken to the deeper recesses of his mind. During these moments he would often pull away from her and fall into bouts of silent thought. In his brighter moods he would always tease that he was a brooder, and what brooders did best was brood.

Anna remembered having laughed and then fallen silent and smiled at him softly. She noticed that she was starting to become shy around him, or just that her cheeks would flush whenever a sensitive subject was broached or if he teased her, but she would promptly try and push that to the back of her mind.

Their almost daily walks around the hospital grounds continued, however today there was a change of scenery. Sergeant Bates was using the indoor facilities and walking with the aid of two wooden beams either side of him. The room was practically empty besides for the two of them, given the early hours of the morning. Sergeant Bates preferred to use the room at this time when there were few others around, and he was often awake with the sunrise. Anna has never questioned it, knowing of its importance to him to maintain the pride he felt was of paramount importance. She had been on the early shift today, and upon her arrival in the ward to take over from Nurse Calloway, Sergeant Bates had been awake, reading in the chair beside his bed. He had maintained eye contact until she realised his intentions.

Anna was stood at the end of the pathway in between the two wooden beams, holding onto his cane. He had been adamant to try and complete this mission without it.

He was struggling though. It was much harder to maintain his balance without his cane, but he had been adamant to try it. He reasoned that his walking might be bettered without it briefly, although he was aware that he would indefinitely need the cane. His limp was much more pronounced now as he walked. John could feel his breathing quicken and he jerked forward, almost stumbling. He noticed that Nurse Smith instinctively moved forward, ready to support him and break his fall, but then she stopped herself.

John looked up and gave her a quick smile. Both of his arms were now outstretched, supporting himself with the beams, and he took a few more steps with this stance. John started to move his hands away as he steadied himself, and slowly but surely made his way to the end of the walkway – to her.

Once he had reached his finish line, Anna handed the cane to him and then proceeded to clap her hands joyously.

"You're doing so much better!" Anna exclaimed and took hold of his hand.

John smiled at her sheepishly, not used to the praise. "If I am, it's all down to you."

Anna raised her eyebrows at his statement, but smiled regardless. He could almost imagine her calling him a 'silly beggar' for his needless self–depreciation, chastising him for not believing in him as much as she did. The saying seemed to be a fond favourite of hers, and sometimes it did fall out. He found it rather comforting that Nurse Smith could have been considered a friend, as well as his nurse, and he quite hoped they would continue to be friends after he was discharged. She not only made him a better person, but she made him _feel_ like one.

They continued to watch each other closely, their eyes and hands joined together, before the moment between them passed and they broke apart. Anna coughed nervously whilst John steadied himself on his cane once more. He rotated his neck and felt it click, letting out a sigh of relief at the feeling. The nervous atmosphere between them was not referred to, and both of them attempted to shake themselves out of the bubble that had enshrouded them.

Anna was attempting not to let herself be fooled. She had grown extremely fond of Sergeant Bates, and his mother at that. She hoped it was because of her underlying need to feel part of a family in London, but deep down she had slowly started to accept that it might not be the case. Every time Sybil teasingly called him 'your Sergeant Bates' Anna had started to realise, and part of that worried her.

But she shook herself, and told herself that she had done nothing to be ashamed of. She and Sergeant Bates were simply good friends, she had helped him through one of the worst periods of his life, surely that would be enough for any two people to strike up a close bond.

Anna attempted to divert their direction and spoke up,

"Well, we should be getting you back to the ward. It'll almost be time for breakfast."

John nodded. "Yes. Very good."

Anna fell into a slower pace as she walked beside Sergeant Bates in the direction of the ward.

* * *

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful for Anna, especially after the busy start to the week with the May Day celebrations. She had also spent little time on the ward with Sergeant Bates, having been called to cover in another ward as a number of new patients were admitted and there were some staff shortages. She just about managed to swallow down a sandwich for her lunch before being called away again. Anna was already longing for her bed tonight, and just the thought of it made her hum in delight.

As the afternoon wore on, however, she was pleasantly surprised to see Mrs Bates come to the hospital for a visit. In the haste of the day so far Anna had completely forgotten that it was one of Maeve's usual visiting days and times. She greeted the older woman fondly, with a swift hug.

"How lovely to see you, dear. But you look rushed off your feet."

Anna smiled and sighed. "It's been one of those days."

Of course Anna would never begrudge the people she helped in her work, but when it was a busy day it was a busy day, and she would assume that most people could tell she was exhausted. There was a limit to anyone's capacity, even for her.

"Well, make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight," Maeve instructed. Anna could not help but smile. She sounded so much like her own mother. "Have you heard from your family?"

It was a regular question of Maeve's and Anna appreciated the gesture. During war it was so common for people to be worried about their own families, so much so that no one would ask, especially not when Anna knew few people in London outside of her work. Anna appreciated being able to talk about it with someone she trusted and considered a good friend. She appreciated the chance to speak of her feelings without feeling like a burden.

The two women continued to talk as they walked to the ward.

Anna told Maeve about her latest correspondence with her mother and how, as far as she knew, her brother was still well as he could be over in France. Her sister Josie was also due to give birth any day now, and Anna was waiting anxiously and eagerly for any news on what would be her second niece or first nephew. Her sister also had a four–year–old daughter, Charlotte, and Anna adored her.

Lottie had inherited the Smith genes, or so it would appear, because she had been born with golden blonde hair and shining blue eyes, although a larger frame than that of her mother's side of the family. She took after her father – Anthony – in her structure and build. He had been another local farmer in the Yorkshire village where Anna had grown up, although he too was out in France at the moment. Anna closed her eyes at the reminder. War was a painful thought, and it was on their minds every minute of every day. It was everywhere, and there was no escaping it.

"Ah, here he is." Maeve's excited tone drew Anna from her thoughts. She re–focused her attention and smiled as she took in the ward, and Sergeant Bates stood with his cane at the foot of his bed. She watched as he greeted his mother warmly, with a kiss to the cheek, and then glanced across to her, greeting her with an equally warm smile.

Anna mirrored the sentiment. She knew he had suffered another nightmare last night – although thankfully they were starting to lessen in their number – but with her hectic schedule this morning they had barely been able to exchange a few words. A visit from his mother always helped though, Anna could tell as much from the changes in his features. He seemed somewhat lighter and carefree in the presence of his mother.

"You're looking steady, son." Maeve congratulated as she noted how much progress he had made judging by the way he was leaning against his cane. His balance was definitely improving. "How are you doing?"

John caught Nurse Smith's eye for a moment before replying to his mother. "Better. Still taking each day as it comes."

Anna smiled at this. It echoed a former conversation between them. She had repeated a similar formation of words her mother would say at home; that no one could predict tomorrow, let alone the future. Taking each day as it comes was the best way to journey through anything in life. Sergeant Bates took this in his stride now.

"And of course you're to thank as well," Maeve turned to Anna and rubbed her arm.

Anna opened her mouth in order to argue back, "Oh it's very much down to him." She caught his eye and smiled. When he mirrored the gesture she felt her insides go warm.

Maeve nudged her son in good nature. "Yes but sometimes he needs a good prod in the right direction."

Anna could not stop herself as she burst out laughing and threw her head back, not just at Maeve's comment but also the way Sergeant Bates' cheeks had turned a telling shade of scarlet.

A few moments passed until Anna spoke again, "Why don't you take your mother around the gardens?" It was a beautiful day, too beautiful to be kept inside. "As long as you can cope without my arm."

John narrowed his eyes at her teasing. Then he smiled. "I can cope just fine, thank you, nurse."

Anna smiled back, silently replying that she knew that, of course.

Maeve smiled as she watched the two of them exchange light banter. "Why don't you join us, dear?"

"Oh I'm far too busy today. But thank you. Another time."

Maeve nodded in understanding and then took the arm that her son was offering.

As Anna watched them walk away, however, matron approached behind her. Anna presented her with a quick smile by ways of greeting and followed the older woman to her office when she motioned for her to follow.

Anna assumed she had been summoned to talk about the rota or to cover a shift for someone. Therefore, she was taken aback when the conversation took a very different turn.

"I only wanted to say..." Matron paused awkwardly before coming out with it. "Sergeant Bates. I trust you know to be... aware of..."

Anna was stunned. "I don't..."

"I'm only saying, you seem very close. Maybe it would be wise to limit your time with him."

Anna was shocked at the line of questioning and replied incredulously. "What do you expect?"

"I would prefer you not to raise your voice, nurse."

Anna took a deep breath and calmed herself down. She closed her eyes, bidding for the unwanted memories to go away.

Matron noticed the look in her eye. "Oh you know I didn't mean to suggest... That's not what I... I know Sergeant Bates isn't like that."

Anna nodded and swallowed, albeit with a pained expression.

"All I meant to say was I think he might be becoming too reliant on you. And that won't bode well for him after he is discharged."

Anna found it difficult, but she replied. She felt she needed to. "But you know how difficult he finds it with others. He feels comfortable with me now, surely that's most important."

Matron softened a little, and spoke in more hushed tones. "I know, and I think it's wonderful how well he has progressed. But it won't do him any good when he's out there in the real world."

Anna knew it was a casual remark, but she often thought that, if anything, the hospital was very much the real world. At Roehampton she saw men pass through at their worst, never to genuinely see their best. She saw them better, yes, but not best. In the _real world _a lot of their suffering would be hidden, their prosthetics covered by a trouser leg or a shirt sleeve, and their feelings guarded by the British and their stiff upper lip.

But Anna knew she had to say something. "Maybe I can help him, in that regard. Start to try and involve him with the other patients. Talk more openly about what he would do when he leaves."

"I'm sure that's something you _would _have done," matron replied with an encouraging, warm smile.

But there was also another look in her eye that Anna was a little unsure of. Anna would never call herself an expert, but she knew what matron thought. And deep inside, she thought she knew it too.

Anna left the office and went to the ward, soon reaching the doors that led outside. There she took a deep breath. She saw Sergeant Bates and his mother. He was walking some of the way himself, and the rest he linked arms with Maeve. Suddenly, they turned and noticed her stood there. They waved, and she smiled and returned the gesture.

Anna then closed her eyes. Her heart fluttered. _Oh, she was in trouble._

* * *

*****There's actually a video on the British Pathé website featuring some of the nurses and convalescents at Roehampton playing football. It's brilliant footage and would highly recommend watching! This is the History buff in me coming out. It was always inevitable.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Once again this has taken longer than I originally wanted, but I've re-read and re-written it so many times now, that if I don't upload it now I never will. Things progress quite quickly in this chapter I feel, but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for all the response to this story. It means a lot.**

* * *

**Thy Kingdom Come**

_**Chapter 7**_

* * *

_May, 1917_

"How are you doing, son?"

Maeve asked as she perched on the side of his bed, holding up her hand when John offered to move from the chair situated by his bed for her. She had waited too long to see him out of the bed to inadvertently force him back into it, or to make him stand and strain himself in the process. Maeve clasped her hands together and rested them in her lap, her eyes resting on her son who showed her a loving smile.

"Better," he replied. "Slowly better."

"Well, there might still be a way to go, but you can be proud of yourself, John." Her pride in John had never surpassed such a height.

"There will always be a way to go. I don't kid myself about that." John spoke with a newfound ease, and Maeve knew he was speaking the truth. There was no hiding behind lies or shame about his leg; this was her John talking about his future – a future he now believed in.

"I'm glad to hear you say so, son." Maeve spoke honestly. "Now, how about we make the most of this weather and take a walk outside?"

John nodded and took his mother's arm as the two of them made their way out into the gardens. The flowers had been nurtured beautifully since the spring and the gardens were looking beautiful and magnificent, and whilst John had known people in the army to have never quite appreciated nature's beauty, he took great pride in watching it. There was something quite special about such beauty in the face of worldwide disaster and pain.

"How are your exercises?" Maeve asked as mother and son turned around a tree and further into the small woodland area in the hospital grounds. "You seem to be walking better each time I see you."

"It's well, some times are harder than others. But we take it a day at a time." Maeve smiled at his choice of words, and as she turned to look at her son closely she noticed that he wore the same expression. Little did she know that he was being reminded of a time Nurse Smith had spoken those exact words, however the peaceful look across his features was enough to satiate Maeve.

"I am proud of you, John. You know that, don't you?" Maeve continued to watch her son, and whilst he turned briefly to smile slightly awkwardly as would many children when faced with such a compliment, she knew that he had accepted it. "And we managed, didn't we?" This time John did turn to face his mother, looking slightly confused but also concerned at her change of tone. Her voice had wavered just slightly. Maeve continued to explain before John could question her, "I'd have liked to give you a better life… a more comfortable one. There we were, leaving Ireland as we did…"

"Mum…"

"… uprooting you like that to come here. And whilst we managed, I've always thought that…"

Maeve was stopped this time as John came to a halt and turned to place both his hands on her shoulders. She had no option but to face him.

"Don't talk like that," John argued softly. "We've had a great life." John winced slightly as he remembered those darker times with Vera – the times he would rather have forgotten. But all of those were his choices. His mistakes in life. But he shook himself visibly and rose above it. "We've had better times than others, but doesn't everyone?" John watched as Maeve nodded silently, conceding a smile. "And you coped admirably after father passed away. Leaving Ireland and coming here was the only option, and we both know that."

"I just want you to know that I still worry about you. I do wonder whether things could have been… different." They both shared a knowing look as the subject of their conversation broached on his ex-wife. "And if you have children one day, you'll know you never, ever stop worrying about them, or wanting to make sure they are all right, or to make things better for them." Maeve reached for one of his hands, tightly holding it within one of hers.

John laughed lightly after a few moments, after the conversation had died slightly, and spoke up, "I'm fairly certain that time has passed for me."

Maeve shook her head at his words and this time raised her hand to cup his cheek, smiling to herself as she remembered how as a boy he used to shy away from her touch like this. "Don't give up hope just yet. You never know what might be around the corner."

"I won't argue with that," John agreed. If the war had taught them anything it was to never _expect _anything.

"Well," Maeve started up and changed the subject entirely. "Maybe you could show me some of the results from these exercises you've been doing."

John smiled and nodded, explaining that he could walk over to a tree several feet away without her assistance. He continued to walk in that direction with his cane, following the path until it rounded the tree and opened onto the vast lawn. As he halted, however, and started to turn his body to look around at his mother, he noticed another figure walking towards them from the lawn.

He smiled brightly, one of those which reached his eyes and caused the skin around them to crease.

"Afternoon, Sergeant." Anna smiled brightly as she walked heartily across to him. "Practicing without me I see?" She teased him.

"Well I have to start somewhere," he replied, continuing to play along with her teasing.

Anna then noticed Mrs Bates appear behind her son, and smiled again just as broadly, reaching out her hand to the older woman and shaking her hand before Maeve pulled her into a brief hug.

"It's lovely to see you, dear," Maeve started. "But you look exhausted, love. Are they treating you well?"

Anna smiled embarrassingly. "There _have _been a few extra shifts this week. But after this afternoon I have a few days off. No work for me."

Maeve raised her eyebrows as if to say that she did not believe that for a second, and John did the same.

"Well, you make sure to rest." Maeve ordered strictly. She then turned to her son. "John was just showing me his latest progress, he's doing brilliantly."

"Almost well enough to go home soon." Anna smiled, looking over to Sergeant Bates. However, an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. How could she explain that she never wanted him to be discharged, but that she also wanted him to live and start his life outside the hospital with every fibre of her being? She even confused herself. But in the end it was not down to her, and once their patients had passed a certain stage in their recovery, they would be moved along. There was a certain sense of order to it, a type that lacked human empathy, but Anna supposed that in war schedules needed to be strict, and once people were well, room needed to be made for those in greater need.

John provided her with a half smile, the thought of being discharged coming to the forefront of his mind. He had tried to forget about the possibility for the last few days, truthfully worried about the 'outside world' and how he would cope in it without… her. The truth was, with her he knew exactly what was around the corner, and the thought of letting her go and getting on with his life frightened him beyond words. However, in the meantime he focused on his mother and Anna as they laughed along at some joke together, he focused on the _now_. Now was all he could think of when the possibility of leaving her in the future had become so daunting.

* * *

"So he'll be coming down here?" Anna asked, surprised at the latest development in Sybil's love life.

The two of them had just finished their last shift for the next few days, the two of them falling in line together, and they were taking a leisurely walk home instead of the bus since the evening was cool and the perfect weather for a stroll home.

"One of his cousins was killed, at the front. He went back for the funeral, but the atmosphere in Ireland… I warned him about it, and it seems his mother did the same. She told him to come back, and he still had some time off so he decided to come down to London."

"To see you?" Anna raised her eyebrow and received a light slap on the arm for the trouble. She started laughing. "If your father knew," Anna chastised.

"What my father doesn't know won't hurt him." Sybil replied curtly. "And times are changing. After the war people might think differently."

"Do you think your family will?"

Sybil replied after a moment. "Some of them, yes. My sisters might. Granny won't, and papa will try his best to stop it, of course. But then… who cares? I'm a grown woman, living in London on my own. I don't _need _their approval."

"But you need them." Anna insisted. "You need your family." Sybil looked at her curiously. "Even if you don't think you need their acceptance, you need your family. We only get one of those after all."

Sybil smiled and looked at her appreciatively. "I know," she replied softly. "Sometimes I just get… caught up in everything. Love makes me mad." Anna smiled sympathetically, that was until Sybil changed the tone of her voice, and the subject matter. "I _could _ask if Tom has an Irish friend…"

Anna turned to Sybil and shook her head. "No."

"Because there's already someone?"

Anna shook her head. "Because I'm happy as I am." Sybil looked at her pointedly. "_I am_. I am perfectly happy as I am, man or no man." Suddenly, the two of them walk past a fish and chip shop. Anna suddenly groaned in delight and hummed. "But my life could be happier with fish and chips tonight." Sybil laughed and Anna turned to face her. "I fancy fish and chips."

Sybil laughed, grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shop.

* * *

_Late May, 1917_

It was another lovely day in May. The weather had lasted throughout the month, and this could only help Sergeant Bates on his road to recovery as once again, the two of them were taking a walk around the gardens, although closer to the lawn and the other soldiers than usual.

John was almost able to walk properly now unaided, only occasionally needing some help or a steadied arm.

"We shouldn't go too far, otherwise people might talk." Anna joked, although she was secretly aware of needing to stay closer to the building and matron's words before. They could hear the other soldiers out on the lawn, but she tried to pay them no mind.

"Since when did you care if people talked?" John teased her.

"I care!" Anna cried out indignantly. She started to laugh nervously.

John immediately noticed that something was the matter. "What is it?"

Anna turned to him and sighed. She knew it was futile to try and hide this from him. "I feel like you can read me like a book." John smiled knowingly, but said nothing. He simply waited for her to continue. She continued awkwardly, "Have you ever thought of trying… to involve yourself with the others?"

"I've never been one for socialising."

"You socialise with me."

John turned to her and smirked. "You're different."

Anna raised her eyebrow.

But John noticed a change in Anna. Clearly something had happened. "But others think I should socialise more?" Anna did not have to respond for John to know the truth. "Matron?" Anna smiled awkwardly. "Then I shall try. I promise. For you."

Anna nodded and smiled, and was about to mention to him about continuing their walk and heading back to the hospital when matron appeared.

"Nurse Smith, there you are. You're needed on the ward."

Anna nodded. "Yes, matron." She then turned to Sergeant Bates. "Will you be all right walking back, Sergeant?"

John was about to open his mouth and respond when matron answered for him.

"I can help the Sergeant." The older woman turned to look at Sergeant Bates and presented him with a small smile. "I can see first hand some of the progress I've been hearing so much about lately."

Anna nodded, content with the response. "Very well." She smiled at John before leaving the two of them alone.

Once John and matron had started walking back in the direction of the hospital lawn, the woman started to speak once more whilst simultaneously watching the sergeant as he walked with only a slight limp - a vast improvement. "Nurse Smith seems to have been a great help to you."

John was unsure as to the direction this conversation was heading, but he replied nonetheless. "A brilliant help. I daresay I wouldn't have made it this far without her."

Matron smiled. "And I see your mother is quite taken with her too."

John shifted a little uneasily as he responded. "She has. My mother seems to have taken it upon herself to bring Nurse Smith under her wing." John laughed softly as a picture of his mother and Anna came to mind. "I think she recognised how far from home she was."

Matron hummed and nodded in agreement. John turned and smiled awkwardly. Matron recognised the look and quickly sought to ease the situation, "I don't mean to pry, Sergeant." John was not entirely convinced until she continued and explained. "I worry about her too. She seems to have taken a shine to you." When John turned abruptly and opened his mouth to argue in defence of Anna and her reputation, matron held up her hand. "I don't mean that inappropriately. I only meant that she has connected with you... you're both friends. She trusts you."

There was something about the tone of her voice that caught John in the middle of his thoughts. He stopped walking, needing to rest his leg but also to focus on just the conversation at hand. An unspoken understanding seemed to pass between the two of them then, and John immediately tried to reassure her, "She can trust me."

Not only Anna, but _she _could trust him.

Matron nodded. "I know." She brought both of her hands together at her front, folding them and wringing them together. "But there are others not so trustworthy. And it's my job to look out for them."

John suddenly understood the reason behind the matron's steely exterior and her attitude towards him in the past and he nodded. The walk back to the hospital ward was silent, and slightly awkward after the subtle revelation, however there was an air of understanding between them now. John bid the matron farewell as they reached his bedside, and started to sit down on the chair with his latest choice of book, however as the minutes passed he found that the works of Hardy were far from his mind as he continued to think of Anna.

* * *

Anna flicked through some of the files at the nurse's station absent-mindedly, stifling a yawn. Sleep had been difficult the previous night, especially after the latest letter from her mother in Yorkshire. She could feel the effects of it even now as the words on the page became a distant, foggy blur - well, it was either the lack of sleep or the fact that her eyes were starting to mist over with tears. She was supposed to be looking into Private Langley's records and enquiring as to the whereabouts of his family, but so far she had experienced no such luck.

Anna sighed, running a hand through her neat hair back in its usual bun, covered in the nurse's cap. However, she was just letting out another deep sigh when a hand fell onto her shoulder, causing her to gasp in shock, jump visibly and leap around to face its owner.

When she saw their face, she smiled in relief.

"Anna, dear, you look exhausted." Maeve Bates looked at her sympathetically. Her hand was now moving from her shoulder down to her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "What's the matter? Are these lot working you too hard?"

Anna tried to dismiss any concern with a smile and a shake of her head, but she also knew that any gesture was futile because of the glassy layer of tears in her eyes that had not disappeared.

"No, I just had trouble sleeping last night, that's all."

Maeve responded with a rather pointed look.

"Sybil was on the late shift too so she came in at goodness knows what time." Maeve still had a hold of her hand, but said nothing. She simply waited. Anna eventually had to glance away, the tears starting to slip from her eyes and down her cheeks. "It's just... no one has heard from James in weeks. My mother worries that he... that he..."

Anna could not bring herself to say the words she dreaded to hear, and in the end Maeve understood her notions without having to ask. The older woman pulled the girl into her arms as a mother would her daughter and steadied her gently whilst Anna tried to even her breathing. Maeve rubbed her back in soothing circles until she had calmed.

"I wish I could tell you not to worry. But there's no use in that when there's a war on. All I can do is pray that he'll be returned safe and sound."

Anna nodded still with tears in her eyes, although she had calmed down considerably.

"I know. But for the people we love, the best and only thing we seem to ever do is worry."

"And right you are, dear," Maeve agreed. "I can't imagine a time when I'll ever stop worrying about John."

"A mother's love is the strongest love there is," Anna spoke wisely. She seemed to have steadied herself completely now. "That's what they say, anyway."

"They do. And I suppose they're right. But love is love no matter who you are, and it hurts no less when anything stands in the way of it."

Anna smiled at those words. "You should meet my mother. You'd get along."

Maeve laughed lightly. "She sounds like a wise woman. I see where you get it from." Anna smiled embarrassingly at the compliment and turned her head away slightly. "Stay strong, dear. Not because these people depend on you, but because you need to stay strong for yourself. We need to stay strong if any of us are going to win this war, on any front."

John watched from his bedside as the two women embraced again. He had initially been concerned when he had watched Anna jump frightfully at the start of their interaction, but now she looked upset. However, he maintained his distance and waited for them to come over, all the while his mind running wildly at the thought of all of the possibilities that could have caused her distress. He would only have to wait until the next day, however, until Anna came to him herself - as a friend.

* * *

_June, 1917_

"I'm sorry to hear your brother still hasn't been in touch."

John tried to reassure Nurse Smith as the two of them took their now familiar walk around the hospital grounds. She had revealed her news to him the day after his mother's visit, although he had been careful not to press her. He was simply a concerned friend. It had now been over a week, and still there had been no news.

Anna smiled at him weakly. "Thank you."

She did not sound convinced, however. She sounded worried. He attempted to relieve her of that, "You know, sometimes we just wouldn't have the time to write, or the opportunity. He might be perfectly fine."

"But he also might not be," Anna replied, her voice cracking a little. "You know that as well as I do."

"I know," Sergeant Bates sighed sadly. "But, take hope in the fact that you've heard nothing…" Anna looked at him curiously. "From the war office, I mean. If there has been no word that he is officially 'missing', then surely that must be good news."

Anna closed her eyes briefly and smiled at his thoughtful words, although she was not currently strong enough to prevent a few tears from slipping down her cheeks. "Thank you for that."

John smiled back albeit concerned and, shrouded by the trees and content that the two of them were alone, he slowly reached out with one arm, resting it gently on her shoulder and ensuring he had her permission which she contentedly gave, before pulling her gently into his arms and stilling her cries.

As he held her in his arms, he could feel his heart beating wildly, yet at the same time he had never felt at peace. It did not pass him by that this was the first time he had taken her into his arms, touched her properly, and he felt like all of the missing pieces in his life had aligned. However, he was careful not to scare her, aware of their current situation. Anna was just the right height for him to be able to rest his chin on the top of her nurse's cap, and he could just get the faintest smells of her hair. Whilst he kept one hand planted firmly around his cane, steadying them both, he used the other to both keep her wrapped in his embrace and to circle her back gently. Slowly, her cries began to subside.

"Anyway, enough about sorry old me." John gave her a pointed look, but she looked away from it. "I hear you might be discharged soon."

John sighed and nodded. They started to walk back to the lawn. Anna gestured for them to sit down on a bench just beside the lawn when they passed, with a great view of the cricket match currently being played between the convalescents.

"They think they've done all they can. Well, all _you _can." John looked at her and smiled as she sat beside him. Anna looked back at him, exasperated.

"Don't be silly."

"It's true," John replied adamantly. "You know it as well as I do. I wouldn't have come this far if it wasn't for you."

Anna smiled at him graciously, but after that nothing more was said.

"Where will you go? Will you stay with your mother?" Anna asked. She believed she knew the answer, but she asked nonetheless.

John nodded. "She has the house in Southwark, quite near the river." Anna smiled in understanding, and he was reminded that of course, she had been before. "I will stay there until I can find work and somewhere of my own."

He would receive a pension from the state, but not very much. Anna also knew that someone like John would need to work for his own state of mind. _Idle hands are the devil's workshop_, Anna remembered a saying of her mother's. Maybe that was the reason she had such a strong work mind. She had grown up with it.

"Have you thought of anywhere?"

"To work?" Anna nodded. "My cousin owns a bookshop not far from my mother's. I have written to him a few days ago and asked for work."

"It sounds like you're all set then. You have it all planned out."

John smiled. "You know me. Everything planned meticulously."

Anna smiled back.

"Write," Anna suddenly blurted out. "To tell us when you're fixed. Else you know me, I'll worry."

"Well we can't have that."

Anna felt her insides turn at the sight of his smile and the tone of his voice. She also felt the breath leaving her body. Suddenly overcome by a surge of emotion, and also confidence, she spoke out quickly before she could change her mind,

"Will you miss me?"

She knew she was playing with fire, but somehow whenever she was close to him he seemed to ignite her. She had the confidence to speak like this with him, yet at the same time she had never felt so nervous to receive a response.

John did not respond for a moment, but instead looked at her lovingly. He _was _in love with her, he could admit that at least to himself now, even if the world might not have been ready to hear it yet.

However, both of them were suddenly distracted as an errant cricket ball blundered over to them, accidentally hitting Anna on the leg. She yelped, not from pain but surprise. John, however, was already making his way to his feet to throw the ball back and give them a piece of his mind.

Anna could see his expression as he opened his mouth to speak, however, and stopped him with a brief touch to his shoulder. Sergeant Bates instantly turned and looked at her. She smiled, "Why don't you join them?"

John looked at her with a sly grin. He knew her game. But he barely had the heart to refuse her. He could see how important it was for her to see him progress, whether that be with her or with the other patients. Slowly, he nodded his head in agreement, and when Lieutenant Scott came over to retrieve the ball, John went over to join in their game.

Anna watched him go with a smile, almost as though she was watching him leave the hospital and her care altogether, knowing deep inside that she could never have been more proud.

Only a few weeks later she would be watching him leave the hospital for good.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **This chapter is being uploaded later than I'd like, but it's simply been a matter of time. I'm hoping to get the next one up sooner. I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for the response to the last chapter. I love reading it all!

* * *

**Thy Kingdom Come  
****Chapter 8**

* * *

_Early July, 1917_

John had been discharged for a few weeks now, he thought ruefully as he stared blankly at the wall of his bedroom in his mother's home from the narrow bunk. The night had finally fallen outside, but he had yet to close the curtains, finding the clearness of the sky to be peaceful to his mind. However, as his mind wandered, he realised he had never felt so empty.

Regardless of the incentives behind his time in hospital, he felt as though he had lost some of the purpose in his life. Although he had a new job and some sort of purpose each day to focus on, it felt like something was missing… or _someone_.

She would be proud, he thought with a smile, of his new job. He had been given work in his cousin's bookshop, not a far distance from home, which was even better for his leg. He managed the accounts of the bookshop which meant that the strain was taken off his leg mostly – which of course his cousin had not referred to, but John had known of otherwise and had been silently grateful – whilst sometimes if the need called for it, he would work behind the counter. There was also a small boy, Daniel, who worked there, aged around ten John believed, who came in to help throughout the week to earn a little extra money for his mother now that his father was away at war. John loved the work, and each time he was there he silently longed for her to come by and look for a book.

He imagined watching her lovingly as she browsed the shelves, much like she used to at the library in the hospital. John imagined her fingers running over the spines, deciding on a choice which would suit her current fancies.

John continued to imagine the interaction, as he followed her to one of the bookshelves and hoped to assist her. They began to talk, although all he could focus on was his arm reaching across her body to point out a book. The closeness of their bodies was not lost on either of them. Anna turned, realising their close proximity and smiling shyly.

Without realising, their hands had found each other. He was gently rubbing the skin on the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb. She was gripping onto his hand tightly, enough to reassure him that his actions were all right and very welcome indeed.

He noticed as her eyes flicked from his gaze to his lips, and then back to his eyes. He did the same. An unspoken exchange passed between them. The two of them were now both breathing heavily.

"What if someone comes in?" Anna asked, a little unsure about the practicalities.

John turned his head slightly and took a book from the shelf, a slim volume of Wordsworth poetry and opened it with one hand before bringing it up to shield their faces from the side of the room where the counter and the door was.

"We can hide for a little while."

Anna smiled and leaned into his kiss. It was soft at first, a gentle caress of the lips, and when they pulled away slowly the two of them smiled sweetly. However, as the temptation grew too much once more, Anna took hold of the book this time, shielding them from the world, and John now used his spare hand to cup her cheek, moving it to her neck and playing with the wisps of hair behind her neck as he kissed her softly. Anna sighed into the kiss, using her free hand to stroke his shoulders through the material of his shirt. She parted her lips willingly when John attempted to deepen their kiss and a soft moan escaped her mouth, causing her to grip tightly onto his shoulder, pulling herself closer to his body.

Their kiss lasted uninterrupted, and when Anna pressed herself closer to his frame, he growled lowly, moving his kisses from her lips to create a trail from her cheek to her jaw line, and then down her neck. Anna sighed happily, using her free hand to hold his head in place at her neck.

John responded by using his free hand to roam her sides, coming down to her leg as she instinctively wrapped it around him in a bid to move closer to the heat of his body. His kisses left her neck and his lips returned to capture hers, deepening the kiss instantly as he instinctively bucked against her, feeling his trousers becoming uncomfortably tight.

He could not get enough of her. The taste of her lips and the sounds of her sighs of pleasure – all because of him. John adjusted his ministrations to her neck once more, finding that sweet spot that caused her to almost cry out, if she had not have been worried about the noise. He could feel the sweet warmth of her breath at his ear, and he shuddered as she whispered his name in such a sultry tone, "_John_…"

It was her calling his name which pulled him from his imaginings. Once he realised he was at home, in his room, he sighed. There was surely no denying it any more. John drew his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes and then running both hands through his hair, strands beginning to fall into his face, reminding him that the unkempt locks needed to be cut soon.

He sighed heavily. John stood up and walked across to the window, pulling the curtains apart and propping open the window a touch. The cool air was a welcome relief. The sky was clear, and there were no stars. Only the moon stood proudly in the night sky, creating stunning light which cast down into the bedroom, lighting it sufficiently that he could see without having lit a lamp.

John briefly wondered if she was looking at the same sky right now. Anna would like it, John thought to himself with a smile, although she preferred when there were stars. He remembered a time when she had been on a late night shift and they had gone to sit outside on the lawn. She had commented that she was due for a break, and that she could use the quiet. Then she had flashed him a knowing smile. It was the peacefulness of the scene that caught him even now; the fact he could sit with her in such a companionable silence, neither having to say anything to know what the other was thinking. Both of them had known that whilst there was peace here, across the waters it was a completely different story.

Back in his room, he was surprised now when a shooting star suddenly shot across the sky. He hoped she had seen it. Anna had once told him that her mother had a saying, that her mother had told her, and her mother before that. She believed that shooting stars were a sign that someone had passed from this world into the next, or to whichever afterlife people believed in. It was a rather poignant moment when a shooting star had appeared that night, knowing that in all likelihood a life may indeed have passed to the other side.

"_You just have to pray it's not one of your own. But then every man has a mother, a father… Someone to miss him."_

He had no other explanation to give her at the time that would ease her thoughts, so he had remained silent. John thought solemnly of the men out in France at this moment, and the horrors they would be facing tonight, and each night to come. He winced at the memories as he was suddenly reminded of the moment he had been hit, but mostly because of the thought of the men, his comrades, his friends, who were still out there fighting and risking their lives tonight. He was glad to be alive, and he was glad to know there was no perceivable way for him to fight again, which made his discharge from active duty slightly easier to bear, but he knew deep down that those images might never disappear completely.

* * *

Across the city in her own flat, Anna was looking out at the same night sky. She saw the same shooting star. A tear slid down her cheek, although she quickly reached up a hand to wipe it away. She prayed that James was well. Thankfully her mother had received word from him earlier this week, and she had soon received a relieved letter from Yorkshire. His regiment had gone out on an expedition and faced some difficulties in returning to camp, therefore it had evidently taken longer for him to get in touch. He was back in camp now, though. Nevertheless, he was still out there, and whilst he was Anna worried.

She was glad of the reassurance though. It had been a huge weight off her shoulders. She remembered when Sergeant Bates told her that it was the not knowing that often hurt the most. That also reminded her that she wished she could let him know James was well.

She had recently wondered how he was getting along. He had promised he would write to her once he had left, but so far she had received nothing, not at home or the hospital. But each time she did contemplate their lack of correspondence, she reassured herself that he was out there living his life. He was engaging himself each day, a task which she had worried he would never want to complete back in his first days at the hospital after the accident. If he was moving along with his life, perhaps wanting to forget a time in his life that he had suffered and struggled through, then who was she to jeopardise that?

Sighing to herself, Anna readied for bed and settled down beneath her covers. She took a quick look at the clock on her bedside and frowned when she realised that Sybil ought to have been home by now. Anna decided to give her another hour or so before really starting to worry, and pulled out her current book from the bedside table.

Several hours later Anna stirred. The candle was still burning at her bedside and the book lay open beside her on the bed. She also heard a series of noises coming from the kitchen. A quick glance at the clock again told her it was just after three in the morning. She then heard a light knock at her door, followed by a quiet, "Are you awake?"

"I am _now_," Anna replied curtly, but smiled nonetheless. She beckoned Sybil to come in.

Her flat mate opened the door carrying two steaming mugs of what looked like cocoa. Sybil was also fully dressed still in her uniform, although her hair was slightly unkempt. Anna scrutinised her slowly as Sybil came to sit on the bed beside her, placing the mug into her friend's hands.

"Sorry. I got in late and wondered if you might still be up. I took a chance." She motioned to the cocoa.

"Well at least you know the best way to my heart." Anna teased. She took the first hot, scalding sip before cradling the mug between her hands, the warmth glorious even despite the summer months. The two sat in silence for a moment, until Anna spoke up, "Where have you been?"

"I… finished late." Sybil's voice wobbled. Anna raised her eyebrow. Sybil mirrored her expression, as if hoping Anna would somehow believe her and drop the subject.

_Not a chance_, Anna told her with a look.

"_Fine_. Tom met me from work."

Anna smirked. "Tell me all."

"We just spent a few hours talking." Along with other things, Anna mused as she watched her friend blush noticeably. "Tom has an old friend down here who owns a fish and chip shop, so we managed to get some food late. And it was a lovely evening, so we just went to sit in the park. We talked and, oh Anna he's just wonderful."

Anna smiled.

"He just seems to understand me so much better than most people. Especially my family. I mean, of course they were supportive of me doing this after a while, but I'm not sure they ever understood. But Tom does."

"Well I'm glad," Anna smiled. "It wasn't long since he was last down here. How did he manage it?"

"He told our butler that it was to do with his heart murmur," Sybil smirked. "And that he would need to travel down to London for a night. He left on the train yesterday at lunch, and will be back for luncheon later today."

"The things you do for love."

Anna smiled, although after a moment her thoughts turned in a different direction. Her thoughts suddenly turned to Sergeant Bates, and she chastised herself once she realized for making the subconscious comparison.

Sybil noticed and asked what was on her mind.

"Nothing," Anna assured. "Come on, I know I'd like _some _sleep tonight."

* * *

_July, 1917_

Anna struggled to balance the basket looped across her left arm with the handful of money she was attempting to count before handing over to the market stall manager. She sighed, feeling the perspiration begin to gather on her forehead, a tell tale sign of the warmth of the summer day in London. Anna attempted to swipe at the irritation with the sleeve of her jacket, but soon realised that was a bad idea when a few of the coins in the palm of her hand fell to the ground.

She sighed loudly, and even let out a small groan of displeasure as she started to lean down, juggling the contents in her arms, and collect the fallen money. However, a second later she was prevented from reaching any further as a soft, guiding hand landed upon her shoulder.

The next vision she registered was a figure leaning down for her. Once the person had turned, she instantly recognised who it was.

"Oh, Mrs Bates, you shouldn't have!" Anna exclaimed, instantly reaching forward in an attempt to steady the older woman.

"Don't be silly," Maeve chastised her. She handed Anna back her stray money, and after she had paid the vendor, insisted that she took some of the purchases and kept them in her own basket. Anna protested, but Maeve insisted. Eventually Anna gave in.

"Thank you," Anna sighed having finally been relieved of some of her load.

"Now you look as though you could use a cup of tea," Maeve advised. Anna grinned and nodded.

They both walked for several minutes before coming across a quaint teashop slightly out of the way of the regular hustle and bustle of central London. For the time of day it was rather quiet, but there were still enough people inside to enjoy a general buzz of energy. They took a seat by the window and both ordered a cup of tea before Maeve also insisted on ordering them a slice of Victoria sponge each. Despite the rationing, local businesses such as these still sold these foods, although their range would be far few than it had been a few years ago.

"You won't begrudge me for wanting you to eat more." Maeve commented sharply, in that motherly tone that Anna had soon come to warm to. The older lady reminded her so much of her own mother, and whilst at first she would often wish she could see her mother more often, now whilst she obviously still missed her, it was a welcome feeling to have someone 'mothering' her, so to speak. Mrs Bates was also such a kind lady. Anna reminded herself that such kindness and generosity was often difficult to find during a time when people were often lost in their own despair.

"I've learnt not to argue," Anna grinned as she shuffled comfortably in her seat, welcome to see the tea appearing before them as the waitress came over.

Maeve laughed, and then added a drop of milk to her tea.

"So how are you, my dear?"

Anna nodded whilst taking a sip of her tea. When she had placed the cup back on its saucer, she opened her mouth to respond. "Well as can be. We heard from James just this week, so that was a relief."

"Oh, I'm so happy to hear that."

"Would you pass the news onto Sergeant Bates too? I know he was eager to hear."

Maeve nodded, "Aye, I will." But then her facial expression suddenly changed. "Have you not mentioned it to him?"

Anna frowned too. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I thought you two had been keeping in touch."

Anna flushed at the realisation. "Well, we had planned to. He told me he'd write when he's fixed with his job." Anna paused and thought about the time that had passed, shaking the nervous feeling that rose. "But maybe he hasn't had the time."

"Well, I'll be asking him about that." Maeve replied. "I'm sure he'll tell you himself, but work at the bookshop is going well."

Anna smiled. "I'm glad to hear it." She was also glad that Maeve had not waited for her to _ask _about him. "How is he doing?"

As Maeve explained how John had been fairing these past weeks, Anna felt a familiar stirring in her stomach. She enjoyed listening to the tales his mother told, recounting some of the better times, although acknowledging that sometimes he would still wake in the night. Affording him that privacy, neither of them dwelled on those times for long in the conversation, simply acknowledging them before talking about other things.

The time flew by, and eventually Anna checked the time and exclaimed that she must be on her way. She was due back into work a little later, and needed to make some dinner before leaving.

Maeve insisted on paying for their tea and cake, and whilst Anna protested she eventually had to concede, but only with the promise that it would be on her next time.

"I like the sound of that," Maeve smiled. She rubbed the top of her arm comfortingly, and then leaned across to kiss Anna's cheek. "See you soon, dear. And do take care. You know how I worry."

Anna smiled. "I know, even after I tell you each time that I'll be fine."

Maeve shrugged her shoulders and smiled sheepishly. The two women shared a final embrace before parting ways.

* * *

The bell at the front of the shop rang, and John turned to look up from the inventory list on the desk. His face broke into a smile when he recognised his mother.

"Hello," he greeted her cheerfully. John reached for his cane and walked slowly over to her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

However, he was not expecting her tart response.

"Don't you _hello _me, John Bates."

His face scrunched up in confusion, instantly thinking back to this morning to remember if he had done anything wrong or broken anything in the house.

"Guess who I just ran into at the market." Maeve continued, and John was forced to abandon his thoughts and focus on his mother – and her seemingly unexplained wrath.

"Who?"

"Anna."

John was stunned for a moment, before he pulled himself together and spoke up.

"How is she?"

"Well I was under the impression that you knew the answer."

"Well, I…"

"Look," Maeve started more calmly. "John, I know that…"

They were suddenly interrupted as a new order of books came through the door. The old man delivering them left them on the desk. There were a number of boxes, mostly now of donated books, and a lot of the proceeds would be sent to the front, including some of the books themselves.

"We'll talk at home," Maeve conceded, realising that he was still at work.

* * *

John turned the key to his mother's house, slowly turning the door handle. He intended to be as quiet as possible, hoping that he would not disturb his mother, but he knew that at nine o'clock for her to be in bed asleep was wishful thinking.

"John, is that you?" Her voice called through from the kitchen. His mother had the hearing of a bat.

"Yes, mam." He called back to reassure her. Slowly John made his way through to the kitchen. The walk home had left him desperate for a cup of tea, and after a working day he longed to take his prosthetic off, the skin that came into direct contact with it becoming uncomfortable. Once he had entered the kitchen he witnessed his mother leaning over the stove, two cups of steaming tea on the table.

Maeve turned and smiled at her son. "I thought you could use one. I'm heating some of last night's stew for supper, I hope you don't mind."

John shook his head, sitting down at the table. "Of course not. Thanks, mam."

In only a few moments a bowl of steaming, hot stew was placed before him, and then a thick slice of bread lathered in an entirely too large portion of butter. His mother always did say he never ate enough these days. He supposed it was her way of ensuring he was well taken care of without having to directly ask him about it.

Maeve buttered herself a piece of bread before taking a seat across from her son.

"So how was your day?" Maeve asked. It was a tradition of theirs now to do this. "You're a little later tonight."

John decided against revealing to his mother exactly why he had been late; that he had been thinking about Anna and had been sat in the park for what felt like hours. He didn't lie, he just failed to address her question. Instead he filled her in on his day.

"How about you?"

"It's been nice," Maeve smiled and took a sip of her tea. "It was lovely to see Anna earlier too." She made eye contact with her son, and John knew that their earlier conversation had not finished. "She mentioned you hadn't been in touch yet. That you said you would."

John looked down at his meal.

Maeve knew that she should tread carefully now, and silently prayed thanks that she had been interrupted earlier when she felt she had acted slightly abruptly.

"Did you want to stay in touch with her?"

John looked up. "Of course. But…" He paused.

"But what?" Maeve urged.

But John shook his head, almost reluctant to continue. Maeve had years of experience with her reserved son, however, and she simply waited patiently. John had become more than just her son in their life together, he had become a good, close friend. During his childhood he had been the same. He would need time, but once that had passed he would often disclose to her his feelings.

"What would I be offering her?" John asked his mother quietly. "What would I be offering her if I did seek contact?"

"What would you like to be offering her?" John looked directly at his mother, his eyebrow slightly raised, and that answered her question without a word having to be said. "Right. Well, if that's the case then…"

"But look at me," John argued. "She deserves more than…"

"Stop that, John." His mother chastised him.

"But I've accepted this is me," he insisted. "I can live with that. I can live with being divorced. I can live with being a recovering alcoholic. I can live with being a cripple. I just can't live with someone else having to live with it." John could see the tears gathering in his mother's eyes. He knew that she knew how much he had hated the pain and anxiety he had caused her in the past, more so after his disastrous marriage to Vera and then his darker years than their latest trial this past year. But he needed his mother to know this. He needed to say it out loud. "I won't burden her with my troubles."

Maeve spoke back quietly, but her words had a sharp effect on her son. "And if she doesn't see them as troubles?"

John was silenced.

After several moments of being sat in silence, the only sounds to drift into the kitchen being those from the busy streets of London, Maeve continued. She was always careful with the words of advice she gave to her son, but she hoped these more than any others she had given in her life would have the greatest effect.

"Start by just being her friend. You both understand each other, it's rare to find that in someone. Some people go their whole lives without finding that." John thought about it carefully, the silence during which his mother paused enabling him to imagine. "It was her birthday just recently. Why not write to her, ask if you can take her for tea as a belated celebration?"

The idea immediately warmed to John, and he nodded slowly. His cup of tea had long since cooled, and once Maeve had noticed she stood up and walked to the stove, retrieving the pot and pouring him a fresh cup, and then one of her own. Once she had sat back down and taken a sip, her eyes never leaving her contemplative son, she spoke once more.

"Be her friend outside the hospital. Work on that first. Because it will be slightly different. But more importantly, learn for yourself that she doesn't see the man you are haunted by." They were sharp words, ones which surprised John, but also ones which he knew were true. He was haunted by his old self, no matter how much he tried to leave that John Bates in the past. "You'll be surprised how easy it becomes once you've accepted that."

His mother's words did have the desired effect and later that night he sat at his desk and penned a letter to Anna. His numerous failed attempts were sat on the floor beside him scrunched up, but eventually he settled on one, and he received response only days later.

* * *

_Dear Anna,_

_It feels rather odd not to be calling you Nurse Smith, but I suppose since I__'__m no longer your patient it might sound odd. I can only apologise for not writing to you sooner. _

_I__'__ve been fixed with a job in my cousin__'__s bookshop, which I remember telling you I__'__d enquired about, and I have to say I do love it. It can be quite menial at times with the log books, but surrounded by books I find it hard to become sad. There is always a new book to read, and there are plenty of different genres coming in. At the moment we have a huge set of boxes that we have to sort which will be donated to the men at the front, which I thought was a nice touch from my cousin. Speaking of the front, I was so relieved to hear from my mother that your brother had been in touch. I also hope you might be able to see him before he returns. _

_I remember now, I was going to tell you about the little boy Danny that works in the shop too. He__'__s only 10, he comes in usually three times a week for several hours to help carry the boxes and set out some of the books, just to earn a little more money for his mother whilst his father is away. I think you__'__d like him, he certainly livens the place up a bit when we__'__re quiet. _

_How are you doing, anyway? Do you have any plans to visit your family in the near future? It should be nice to hear from you again. I'm sure we have plenty to tell each other, so I thought that if it was not improper to ask, we could meet for tea next Wednesday afternoon? It could be a belated birthday celebration for you. _

_I look forward to hearing from you._

_Best wishes, John Bates_

* * *

_Dear Sergeant Bates,_

_It was such a pleasant surprise to hear from you! However, I__'__m afraid I__'__ll have to be the odd one and still call you Sergeant Bates, since anything else seems rather silly and improper. _

_The bookshop sounds lovely! Your mother did mention the name of it when we saw each other at the market, so I shall have to come by and see if any of the books take my fancy. Young Danny certainly sounds like a great help, and I should hope not too much of a handful as they can be at that age. _

_We were ever so glad to hear from James. As for visiting my family, I have scheduled nothing as of yet. It would be difficult at the moment to take time from the hospital, there is so much happening. Too much to really speak of in a letter __– __we should definitely meet, if you would be sure? I'm free next Wednesday afternoon, we could meet at the little teashop around the corner from your work? _

_Best wishes, Anna Smith_

* * *

**A/N: **As for the first section, well... It speaks for itself I guess. They both know. And I think even in Series 1 and the years before Series 2 there may have been a few racy thoughts here and there... They're only human after all. This chapter felt a bit here and there to me, but I hope you liked it.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the response so far. I appreciate it so much. I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter as well. Things start to progress a little more. I'm trying to keep the whole 'slow burn' going, but also move it forward at a rate I hope everyone finds believable. Lots more Mrs Bates in this chapter too, because I love her and I still wish we'd seen so much more of her in the show.**

* * *

_Thy Kingdom Come  
__Chapter 9_

* * *

John waited nervously outside the little teashop they had arranged to meet at. It was a rather mild Wednesday afternoon, at least compared to the rest of the summer so far. John smoothed his white shirt once more, aiming to rid it of the now non-existent creases. He also did up another button on his waistcoat before deciding against the extra button again, only to reverse his decision once again seconds later.

He was nervous. There was no use in denying it.

It would be the first time he had seen her since that last day in the hospital. Her shifts had coincided with his time to leave, and she had walked with him and his mother to the front of the hospital where Captain Crawley – having heard he was being discharged that day – had sent his London driver to collect and take him home. He would have protested vociferously had he not been secretly relieved to not have to take the bus ride all the way home.

Their goodbye had been an almost shy shaking of the hands. However, once their hands were entwined it took them several more seconds than would have been deemed proper to part.

"_Best of luck,"_ she reassured him softly.

He replied with a smile. But inside he was saying he would _need _it without her there.

"Hello, stranger."

A voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned his head sharply and there she was. She looked just as beautiful as he remembered. Her hair was styled a little more elaborately than she would have had it whilst at work, curled and waved in particular places, and she seemed to have been sporting a little blush on her cheeks, he noticed. She was wearing a cream-coloured dress with fancy decorative features – one of the latest styles, he assumed.

John soon realised that he was probably staring, and that he had remained silent for a few moments too long to be considered normal. He coughed and cleared his throat.

"Hello."

Anna smiled at him almost nervously. She fidgeted slightly with the clutch of her purse and shifted on her feet. She tried to ignore the erratic sensation of her heart thumping against her chest. There was an awkward feeling in the air around them and, hoping to be rid of it, Anna spoke up first.

"How have you been?"

His mind did not even take a beat to say _awful, without you_. But thankfully he did not voice those thoughts just yet. Instead he nodded and told her part of the truth. "Not too bad. Still taking it a day at a time."

The two of them smiled, remembering how similar words had been spoken in their previous times together. It had become a mantra of theirs at the hospital. John had found it to be the best advice.

John then gestured for the two of them to go inside, especially after a group of people had come walking along, forcing them to move aside on the pavement. He opened the door for her, waited for her to enter past him and then followed her into the shop. As she brushed past him he caught the familiar scent of her – of the soft fragrance she always seemed to wear – and for a moment he had to close his eyes, remembering the moments with her earlier this year that held such fond places in his heart.

But he did not allow himself to enjoy the sensation for too long. He opened his eyes and followed her to the table they were shown to by a young waitress.

"How about you? How have you been?"

Anna looked up at him and answered as she sat down, removing her gloves and placing her purse on the table beside her. "Oh, not bad either. Same as usual really. Working, sleeping…" She grinned.

"An interesting life to lead," John teased her.

He was interrupted from continuing as the waitress came over to take their order.

"Some tea please," he answered her. He then turned to Anna. "Would you like anything to eat?"

Anna ordered a sandwich and a piece of cake. John ordered the same. Once the waitress had disappeared Anna turned to him and spoke.

"It was nice to hear from you."

John looked down a little. "I'm sorry I didn't write sooner."

Anna shook her head. "Don't be. You've dealt with a lot of change recently. Lots to get used to."

"Indeed. It's been an experience to say the least."

"How is the new job?"

"I love it," John smiled proudly.

"Well, being surrounded by so many books. It suits you. You look well."

John smiled even brighter and could not stop himself from saying, "You too. You look lovely, by the way."

Anna felt herself turn shy, and she was quite certain her cheeks had gone a little red. John noticed her facial expression visibly change and scolded himself for his choice of words.

The arrival of their sandwiches and cake interrupted any further trains of thought for now. They ate in silence for a while, occasionally looking up at the other and smiling.

"I was glad to hear about your brother," John spoke up eventually. He had finished his sandwich and was now moving onto a piece of delicious-looking cake.

Anna smiled and put down the remaining piece of her sandwich to respond, "Thank you. We were so relieved." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I imagine my mother still worries though – well, we all do really."

John nodded and hummed in sympathetic agreement.

"But she has plenty to keep her mind off it. My baby niece is still young. She was only born a month ago. And it's always busy on the farm. She has her hands full."

"I imagine she loves fussing over another grandchild."

Anna smiled lovingly, "She does. They both do, really. I should hope to get some time off soon to visit them as well."

"That would be nice. Everyone deserves some time off. Even you."

His tone made her chuckle.

"No rest for the wicked." She joked. "But we'll see."

They continued to spend the rest of the afternoon talking about anything and everything. They ordered more tea and talked more. Anna had plenty of stories from the hospital, and John found himself enjoying the new tales she had to tell. Some of the other patients were doing well, and he was glad to hear it, but others not so. The conversation took a melancholy turn at that moment, and he decided to suggest a walk around the park nearby before she had to leave and head to work for her shift.

Anna nodded. "I'd like that."

They walked at a leisurely pace. John had noticed that Anna was walking a little slower than she usually would to let him walk at an easier pace for his leg. He appreciated that she had not drawn any attention to it. Her only words surrounding it were earlier on in the teashop when she had asked how he was coping with it, but even then her query was only filled with a professional curiosity and not sympathy or pity. She _had _spent months helping him learn to become accustomed to it, after all, so he accepted that she had the right to ask. But otherwise she let it be.

The sun was now beating down on them – quite a strange turn of weather for the late afternoon, but England was as unpredictable as ever with its sunny spells. As they continued to talk and walk around the park, John marvelled at how much easier it was becoming to simply talk to her. He knew for certain he had never felt as comfortable as this talking to anyone outside of his family. He even started to reveal more about his childhood in Ireland, and then London, and they both laughed at how unruly he sounded as a child sometimes. Anna made sure to tell him that she would be asking his mother about these stories.

Eventually, however, Anna had to leave to go back to work.

"This was lovely," Anna commented. "We should do it again."

"Definitely," John agreed. "Actually, before I forget, my mother wanted to invite you for dinner. In her words, it gives you a chance to have 'a proper catch up'."

Anna laughed. "That sounds lovely. When?"

"Friday?"

Anna thought for a moment about her shifts this week, and then nodded. It was her day off. "Friday is great."

"Great." John paused for a moment, a little unsure of what to do next. "Well, I'll err see you then."

"Until Friday." Anna agreed.

Their goodbye consisted of a fumbling, nervous handshake before they parted ways.

* * *

Anna sighed as she used the wash cloth to wipe away the small traces of blush she had applied to her cheeks. She must have applied, washed off and re-applied some of her products several times now. She was never even one for wearing blush.

Sybil entered the room. She noticed Anna looking a little dumbfounded.

"Where are you going in your best dress?" Sybil teased.

"I'm going for dinner at Mrs Bates' home. And…"

"Sergeant Bates is going to be there?" Anna smiled sheepishly. "Well at least you have a chaperone." Sybil was about to scold herself and apologise for her slip of the tongue until she noticed Anna's cheeks turn bright red. Her eyes widened in realisation. "You _do _like him, don't you?"

Anna paused for a moment, but soon responded. It was about time she got this off her chest. "We just seem to understand each other. I _do _like him."

"Have you seen him since he was discharged?"

Anna nodded. "We met for tea the other day."

Sybil squealed.

Anna smiled at her friend's reaction – if she was being honest it was the kind of reaction she had expected. She knew she had failed to tell her thus far because she was still coming to accept and fully understand her feelings, but there was also another matter still on her mind.

"You don't think it's unprofessional, do you?" Anna asked worriedly.

"I think it's romantic," Sybil replied. But once she realised that it was not helping Anna, she continued. "As long as nothing happened when he was your patient." Anna shook her head. "Then there you have it. You did nothing unprofessional or untoward." Sybil noticed as Anna visibly relaxed at her explanation. "These things just happen sometimes. They do say you can't help who you fall in love with."

Sybil smiled at her friend thoughtfully. She then noticed the blusher beside her on the dressing table and moved across, picked it up and motioned for Anna to sit closer.

"Come here, then. Let's help with this." Anna smiled and obeyed, shifting a little closer so that Sybil could help. They spoke in the meantime. "So, do you think he feels the same way?"

Anna averted her eyes. "I think so. There are these little things that he says, and the way he looks. I could be misreading things, of course, but…" She trailed off.

"But you won't know until you try."

Anna laughed. "You make it sound so easy."

"It isn't," Sybil replied in a heartbeat. "It's the most nerve-wracking experience. You have no idea how he feels, or how he will react. But it comes to a point where you just have to say something. Take that chance, else prolonging it will only make it hurt even more if it's not the answer you're looking for."

"When did you get to be so wise?" Anna teased.

"Some of us are just blessed," Sybil replied with a smirk. Anna responded by playfully hitting her friend on the arm and laughing, but inside she felt as though some weight had been lifted. It was good to get things off her chest.

* * *

As Anna settled down for a cup of tea in the sitting room, she briefly wondered why she had ever felt nervous. Maeve was sat across from her, filling her own cup whilst John was upstairs getting changed, having just arrived home from work.

"How is everyone?" Maeve asked. It had become a regular question of hers whenever they met. Anna was gracious for the concern – during wartime it became far too easy to forget about the people who were right beside you, and since Anna had none of her family down south, it had become so easy to lose herself in her thoughts. And often these were not good ones. Maeve truly cared. She knew the importance of Anna being able to voice either her fears or concerns.

"They're well, as far as I'm aware." Anna replied, taking a sip of her tea before placing it back down on the table. "We've had no more news from my brother this week. But no news is good news, really. My mother only gets letters every other week as it is."

Maeve nodded and hummed in agreement. She remembered how letters could be stalled across the channel too, and how John often had hardly any time to write.

"But she's busy as it is," Anna continued. "Lily is just over a month old, and I think she helps my sister a lot."

"Ah of course, your new baby niece," Maeve exclaimed joyfully. "How does her sister find her? Charlotte, isn't it?"

Anna smiled, "Yes, Lottie. She loves her, as far as I've been told. She tries to help as often as she can too."

Maeve smiled fondly. "Have you ever thought about starting a family?"

Considering the topic of their conversation, that had not come as a surprise to Anna. In response she simply laughed and joked, "I need to find a husband first."

"Who's looking for a husband?" A voice appeared from by the door.

Anna turned and watched as John entered the room. His eyebrows were raised, as though he was teasing her. He walked across the room and kissed his mother on the cheek. However, before sitting down on the spare chair beside them both, John walked over to Anna, but instead of kissing her cheek he merely took hold of her hand. It was meant to be a handshake, a courteous greeting, but all that seemed to transpire was them holding onto each other's hands and smiling awkwardly.

Maeve noticed the exchange – how could she not?! – and felt the air change around them. In a bid to dispel any awkward tension she spoke up quickly,

"I was just asking Anna about her new niece."

"Ah, children! My mother's favourite topic of conversation." John turned and sat down in the chair, although not before looking across to Anna again and smiling softly.

Anna laughed at the tone of his voice and returned the smile.

"Oh hush, John." Maeve scolded her son lightly. "You're not too old to be told off by your mam."

John laughed along, and then started to prepare himself a cup of tea from the pot on the table. "Of that I am certain."

Maeve rolled her eyes at his cheek and shook her head in despair. Anna simply enjoyed watching the two of them exchange conversation in such a manner. It was almost refreshing to watch.

"So how was work, John? Busy?"

"Not really," John shook his head. He finished pouring his cup and sat back in the chair, his legs slightly outstretched. Anna could not help but notice, however she tried not to stare. "We had a new delivery, but it was a small one." He turned to Anna. "How about yours?"

"It was my day off," Anna replied. "But it has been quite hectic this week."

"Nice to finally have some time off," Maeve interjected. "You need it, dear."

"What are you trying to suggest?" Anna joked playfully, tipping her head sideways.

Maeve suddenly realised that her choice of words had perhaps not been the best. "Oh no, my dear. I didn't mean to… You look lovely, dear. As always. Doesn't she, John?"

John looked up sheepishly from his cup of tea, having been attempting to stifle his laughter at their current conversation. His eyes flickered across to look at Anna, and he nodded and smiled, even though he looked as though he was still about to burst into peels of laughter.

Maeve scolded her son once again.

They continued to talk between the three of them until Maeve noticed the time.

"Ooh, I'd best check on dinner."

"I can do that." John insisted.

"Oh no, John. You sit down. You've been at work all day."

Maeve stood up and left for the kitchen.

"How have you been?" John asked, filling the silence his mother had left.

"Fine," Anna smiled. In a sudden burst of confidence she spoke, "It's nice to see you again."

John smiled. "I'm glad you came. You look… lovely."

Anna felt herself blushing.

John noticed her slight discomfort, and suddenly thought to ask, "Is it all right? That I said that."

"Yes," Anna almost whispered her answer.

The room fell silent for a moment until John noticed her empty cup and cleared his throat, "Would you like another?" He motioned to the teapot.

Anna nodded.

"More sugar?" John asked as he poured the water, milk and added a spoonful of sugar.

"No, that's enough," Anna placed her hand over his as he was about to place another in her tea.

However, the sudden contact caused them both to stop in their actions.

"Anna…"

"What is this?" Anna breathed. She thought she had said it to herself until she heard him reply.

"What would you like it to be?"

She knew this was it. They were only inches apart, and it would only take one slight movement to turn slightly and kiss him.

Anna leaned forward slowly. John seemed to realise her intentions and mirrored her actions. However, before their lips could touch a loud shattering noise came from the kitchen.

Both of them jumped, their hands falling to their sides. John quickly rose to his feet, although the sudden movement caused him to sway slightly, still a little unsteady. Anna quickly steadied him with her hand and gestured that she would move first, and promptly headed to the kitchen to discover the source of the sound.

When the two of them reached the kitchen, they discovered that Maeve had been trying to reach for the finer dinner plates – which were too high for her to reach – and one of them had dropped and smashed on the floor.

"Oh, Maeve. Let me clear that, please."

Anna stopped the older woman from leaning down on the floor and cleaning the mess. She was about to protest, but was too slow for Anna, who had already knelt down and started to carefully collect the pieces of broken pottery.

"Thank you, dear. I was being so clumsy." Maeve looked slightly shocked after the events, and John promptly settled his arm around her in comfort.

"These things happen," John reasoned. He then turned to look at the stove, and noticed that the food looked almost ready. "I'll get the plates down. Then we can serve up."

Anna had finished clearing the mess and was now disposing of it carefully. Maeve then insisted that she sat down at the table – _you are the guest after all _– and prepared a jug of water for them during the meal.

Several minutes later John had retrieved the plates and Maeve had served up the food.

"I am sorry about all that," Maeve apologised again.

"Don't be," Anna and John both insisted simultaneously. They shared a knowing smirk after.

"Well, anyway, cottage pie. I hope you like it." Maeve worried.

Anna smiled at her. "I do. It smells delicious. Thank you."

"Some home-cooked food for you, can never go wrong."

"I'm sure Anna manages to eat home-cooked food, mum." John laughed. Anna joined in, although their smiles fell awkward after a moment as their eyes met and they were reminded of their moment earlier in the sitting room. Maeve noticed the atmosphere had shifted ever so slightly, and promptly replied.

"Oh I know, but you young ones need fattening up. You're skin and bone."

Anna smiled timidly and spooned some of the food into her mouth, complimenting Maeve afterwards. The three of them fell into a comfortable conversation, the topic being Mavis next door and her latest attempts at gardening. Maeve led the conversation of course, and animatedly so, as the gossiping continued.

* * *

The three of them shared a pleasant evening together. Anna settled so easily now into the Bateses front sitting room that she found it quite a strange sensation to be going home later that evening. She sighed softly and declared that she must head home now, if she was going to catch the last bus – else it was a much longer walk.

Anna bid farewell to Maeve and went into the front hallway to fix her coat.

John followed her out.

"Let me walk you home."

Anna turned at the sound of his voice. She was just fixing the last button on her coat. She smiled gladly, but spoke apologetically, "You're not walking me all the way home…" She could see his face fall, so quickly amended her suggestion. "But you can walk me to the bus stop."

John smiled and nodded. He motioned towards the sitting room, and Anna nodded as he went to tell his mother where he would be.

"I'll be back soon," John popped his head around the living room door in order to speak to his mother. "I'm just walking Anna back to the bus stop."

"That's fine, no need to rush back." Her eyes sparkled and John's cheeks went red at the implication.

"I won't be long," John insisted.

The two of them left the house in silence. It was still fairly light outside, even despite the fact that the hour approaching was eight. But there was a distinctive chill in the air that had not been apparent earlier, and Anna was glad she had brought her coat. They walked leisurely and in silence for a while, their moment earlier in the sitting room far from forgotten, and neither of them knew how to start a conversation with that on their minds.

It took a few minutes, but John eventually spoke up, "Did you enjoy it tonight?"

Anna looked across at him and nodded. "I had a lovely time. It's always nice to see you both."

John smiled.

"And there's nothing like home-cooked food, your mother is right." Anna continued. "Whilst I _do _cook, it's never really the same, is it? Nothing tastes as good as your mum's dinners, including yours."

"Of that we're in agreement." John laughed lightly, but turned relatively sombre as he continued to talk. "Whilst I was away, my mother's cooking was one of the things I missed the most. And I think everyone else would have been in agreement. Packages from home were… well, as you can imagine, we enjoyed them the most."

"Just the little reminders of home to keep you going."

John nodded. "Exactly. Either of family or of sweethearts." John fell silent for a moment as he thought about the men – the men he fought alongside – who were still out in France and risking their lives. The unfairness of it all hit him once more – as it often did each day, at whatever time it decided to bombard his thoughts – and he wondered bitterly and sorrowfully how many of the men he had fought alongside with back in France were still alive. He prayed for their safety each and every night, despite being no religious man. His mother had told him countless times in her letters that she prayed for his safety each and every night.

Suddenly, John felt a hand on his arm. When his eyes focused, he realised that Anna was still stood beside him.

"We're here," Anna announced. He thought he detected a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Sorry, I was somewhere else." John told her.

Anna shook her head and smiled. "No worries."

John suddenly noticed where they were, and Anna's previous words now made sense. "Oh, we're here."

Anna chuckled. "The bus should be along soon."

"I'll wait with you. Can't be leaving you out here alone."

Anna rolled her eyes and shook her head, but found herself staying silent and not objecting to his gentlemanly behaviour.

"Actually, I had wanted to ask you something," John spoke up.

"Yes?"

"I wondered if you were available on Monday… for tea, or for dinner, or whatever you'd like…"

As John began to stammer, Anna spared him the task and gently took his hand. "That sounds lovely. I'm not working, I finish early in the morning."

John took a deep breath as he registered the feel of her hand tucked into his. He swallowed and nodded.

"Good. Great, even."

Anna broke into a smile. "Where?"

"I'll pick you up. We could walk from there?"

Anna agreed and told him her address.

"It will be nice," John spoke up. "Just the two of us." He paused. "Not that being with my mother… I do like it when…"

"Stop," Anna laughed. "I know what you mean. And it will be lovely." She squeezed his hand.

John took a moment to look down at their hands, now entwined. He did not voice his thoughts, but he swore he had never felt so right in his life. In a sudden burst of confidence, he raised their hands and brought hers to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss there before bringing them back down to their sides, hoping that his intentions for Monday were now a little clearer. Actions did often speak louder than words, especially when the words are sometimes too hard to say, or if nerves got the better of him.

The sound of the bus turning onto the street caused them to turn, and both realised that it was time for her to go.

"Well, this is me." Anna sighed. She noticed that their hands were still joined together, and gave his another reassuring squeeze. "I'll be seeing you on Monday, then."

John nodded. "Monday. Definitely."

The bus pulled up beside the stop. Before she could change her mind, Anna reached up and kissed his cheek softly in response to his earlier gesture. Her thumb continued to stroke his hand.

"Until next time, Sergeant Bates."

They shared one last smile before they reluctantly drew apart and Anna climbed onto the bus.

John could not stop smiling on his walk home. Monday could not come soon enough.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Well this chapter ended up being a lot longer than intended. It's almost 8,000 words but I hope it still reads well. Lots of fluff, kisses and dates in this chapter - I couldn't resist. The final section is a little angstier, but it was something that was planned from the start and something that has been weaved subtly throughout the story. It has similarities to S4E3 but doesn't follow the same storyline as the show. And I promise it will be followed through in the story, it's not just there for a shock factor.

Please let me know what you think, your reviews all mean so much. Thank you especially to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and the guest reviewers who left a comment recently - it gave me a much needed prod in the right direction. Anyway, this is it now, I'll stop.

* * *

_Thy Kingdom Come  
__Chapter 10_

* * *

_Late July, 1917_

John was beaming. He knew he probably looked like a lovesick fool, but with Anna on his arm he could barely keep it to himself. He took another quick look down at her figure beside him, her face obscured by her hat. She was laughing now, and although he had not been listening, he laughed along.

His original intentions for their dinner had been to go to a fine restaurant. However, after taking a short bus ride to meet Anna as they had decided to stay closer to her this time, and after the weather proved to be beautiful for the afternoon, the two of them had decided on a fish and chip dinner. After John had purchased their dinner in a small, local business that he remembered from his childhood, they decided to take them to the nearby park.

Eventually they found a bench to sit down, easing the strain on John's knee without drawing too much attention to it, but away from any people walking through the park.

"This is well hidden," Anna teased.

"Private. There's a difference." John smirked.

Anna smiled at him coyly and shook her head in exasperation. She started to open her fish and chip dinner, closing her eyes and letting out a rather 'unladylike' groan as she ate the first chip.

John watched her in amusement and laughed. "Enjoying those?"

Anna nodded, her eyes still closed. "I haven't eaten since this morning. I'm starving."

John could only smile and watch her, entranced. They sat quietly and ate for a little while, and John occasionally reclined his head against the back of the bench as the sunlight streamed down, poking through the tree branches, and enjoyed the rays as they hit his face. It was hard to believe that on a day like this there was still fighting across the world. He knew he had not felt peace like this in a long time.

The sound of Anna sighing pleasantly caused John to turn his head and sit back up. She seemed to be enjoying her meal, he noticed, but he did also feel a pang of guilt that he was not treating her to something more substantial, a dinner in a fine restaurant. Suddenly, however, he realised that Anna was watching him. She titled her head to the side and scrunched up her forehead, as if she had realised he was brooding and was silently enquiring as to the reasons for it.

"I'm sorry we didn't go somewhere finer," he revealed suddenly. "You deserve to be dined properly–"

He was prevented from continuing as her hand came to rest across his arm. Anna implored him to stop berating himself.

She smiled now, almost teasingly. "Oh no, Sergeant. Fish and chips are the way to this girl's heart." He knew she was teasing him, but he smiled sadly. Anna saw this and decided to reassure him properly. She rubbed his arm gently. "No but honestly. We both decided to do this, don't be sorry for it. I'm very much enjoying myself. And the company."

Her last statement did make him smile, and even more so when she squeezed his hand tightly before going back to her meal.

The two of them continued to talk about their days so far. John filled Anna in on how his mother was at the moment. He told her she had been eager to see Anna again, and that she was more than welcome to come over for dinner again soon. Anna told him all about the hospital, although she kept it limited. There was not much she could really tell him, being a nurse during the war meant her stories were hardly full of good news, and she often worried that talking to him about it might bring back some unwanted memories. Of course he was strong, and had survived one of the darkest times of his life, but Anna knew that these things were always far from over. It was not something that just went away.

Their afternoon passed in a flurry of conversation though. They never just talked about work, and after every conversation spent together they discovered more and more things that they had in common. They talked of books, and of politics, of their childhood and their hopes and aspirations for the future. Anna wanted to travel to some places - obviously not far, due to money, but maybe to places in the country like Ireland or Scotland.

"Have you never been?" John asked, slightly surprised. "As a child, when you were growing up."

"No," Anna shook her head with a sad smile. "We did sometimes visit one of my uncles up in Northumberland, but not often. My parents had the farm to tend to, that took up most of their time."

"I've been lucky then," John realised. "I grew up in Ireland for a while, until we moved to London. And my mother's mother was Scottish. She was a Keith. So I remember visiting her a handful of times."

"What was it like?" Anna asked animatedly, still eating some of her chips.

John smiled at her enthusiasm and continued to reveal to her the memories of his childhood. He talked of the Scottish Highlands and how they should visit them... one day. He also talked of his family still in Ireland, although with the troubles there at the moment he doubted a visit soon would be the wisest idea.

Anna finished her portion of food relatively promptly and, still slightly hungry, she eyed up John's and sneakily stole a chip when she thought he would not notice. John's head turned quickly, his eyebrows raised at the audacity. But Anna had already put the chip in her mouth and swallowed it, and was now biting her lip and looking entirely too sheepish and innocent.

"I see how it is," John began, trying to sound serious. "I buy a dinner for a lady, and she steals mine!"

Anna smiled back at him and tried to stifle her laughter.

"I'm sorry," Anna replied to him, almost singing as she elongated the final word. "Perhaps I could make it up to you?"

Before John could enquire as to how she hoped to do this, Anna had shifted across on the bench, closing the distance between them. She stopped for a moment, however, and reached across to take his hand. She squeezed it gently before moving her hand to cup his cheek. Subconsciously Anna brought her tongue out to smooth her lips, and in a low, husky voice she spoke, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

They had been looking at each other all day. John had lost count of the times he had stared longingly at her lips and he swore he had caught her staring too. After their last time together at the bus stop, he had thought of nothing else. He was entranced even now, his eyes darting down to look before they flickered back up to watch her movements closely.

Her eyes silently pleaded with him to give her some sign that he wanted this too. John's mind was racing, his heart beating erratically as he imagined what could be happening in mere seconds. He gave her a slight nod, and that was enough of a signal for Anna to lean forward, close the distance completely between them and kiss him for the first time.

John's lips were slightly rough but still impossibly soft, if that could even make sense Anna thought, and she could feel the gentle rasp of his facial stubble as her hand continued to circle his cheek. The warmth of his kiss pulled her forward again on the bench, moving so close that she could almost feel the heat from his body.

After a few moments they both pulled apart. Their current location had not been lost on either of them, and whilst they were hidden away from the main pathway, the lovely weather and the time of year meant that for someone to come across them would not be out of the realms of possibility.

Their eyes opened at the same time, and Anna giggled in a mixture of nervousness and excitement. John smiled at her reaction, and reached out to hold her hand.

"Well," John began. "Do you want the rest of my dinner?"

Anna burst out laughing and leaned back, their hands falling away in the meantime. John soon followed her.

"I'm glad that finally happened," John revealed a few seconds later. "I know I've wanted to do it for goodness knows how long."

Anna smiled at his words; however her look soon became wistful and slightly sombre. John watched her with concern, but before he could ask she had revealed her thoughts.

"I missed you. In those first weeks after your discharge." Whatever John had been expecting to hear, that was not it. "And when you wrote, I was so happy."

Anna's eyes had been flitting back and forth from him to her lap during her speech. Now that she was finished, she raised her head and looked at him nervously. When he smiled at her reassuringly, she returned the gesture. She reached across for his hand and he took it.

"I'm sorry, for not writing sooner. The truth is…" John stopped and looked at their joined hands. "The truth is I felt the same. But I didn't want to assume anything, and I knew that I could offer you nothing… Being a divorced man, your reputation would be…"

"But I don't care. I don't care what people think or say. None of that matters."

"Do you really not care?"

Anna shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

Anna spoke before she could stop herself.

"Because… well, because I love you, Mr Bates. I know it's not ladylike to say it, but I'm not a lady and I don't pretend to be."

John was slightly stunned at her declaration, having not expected her to reveal her feelings so soon. But he knew that he could not remain silent for this long, and in response he softly cupped her cheek. "You are a lady to me. And I never knew a finer one."

Anna looked at him with tears in her eyes. She subconsciously leaned further into his touch – needing to feel more of him as her emotions ran wild.

"You gave me hope," John continued. His voice sounded like it might break at any moment; such was the emotion he spoke with. But he managed to persevere. "You gave me hope during the time I needed it most. Without you…"

"No, don't say it."

"No, without you I might not have survived it. At least not into the man I am now. _You _are the reason I'm here. You saved me. You are the reason I'm _happy_."

"Are you happy?" Anna smiled. The way the words were leaving his lips made her hungry to hear more.

"I'm not sure if I've ever been happier, love." His term of endearment caused her to tear up even more – if that were even possible at the moment.

Anna squeezed his hand.

"I know people say that you should never fall in love too quickly, but when you know…"

John could hear a hint of nervousness in her voice, and he realised that he had not directly said it back. Before she could run away with herself, John cut her off with a kiss, pulling her close and silently vowing to never let her go. She responded willingly, and he felt one of her hands running up and down his side. The most pleasant shivers coursed through his body, and when the kiss ended, he moved his hand to mirror her actions, and as he ran it to her upper arm, he squeezed it gently.

Anna smiled at him lovingly; their faces still so close he could feel her breath against his skin, and his next words surprised her in the best possible way.

"I love you."

Anna leaned forward and kissed him once more, pouring her feelings for him into that one action. However, their embrace did not last as long as either would prefer, because the two of them heard voices approaching them and remembered their current location.

Anna's hand lingered as she moved back across the bench to sit a respectable distance apart, and John gave her hand one final squeeze before letting it go.

"We could go for a walk," John suggested as they watched other people enjoying the weather and walking through the park around them.

Anna nodded at the suggestion and gathered the remnants of their dinner to find a bin. They walked around the park for the remainder of their time together that afternoon, occasionally hiding themselves behind strategically placed trees and alcoves and enjoying stolen moments together.

Sometimes loved pulled the most unlikely people together, John thought as they walked back to the bus stop to part ways, and as he looked down at Anna on his arm, he thanked God for it.

* * *

_August, 1917_

John smiled brightly as he watched Anna wander flirtatiously through the bookstore. She had arrived just a few moments ago, and he was overjoyed to find that it was almost the end of the day, and that he could get away with closing the shop a little earlier. When John had mentioned it, Anna smiled as though that had been her plan all along.

"I wonder if you could help me choose a new book, sir."

John grinned at her playful attitude. He flipped over the 'open' sign and followed her down one of the aisles to some of the books she was pretending to look at.

He came to stand behind her, his eyes roving over her as she swayed her hips deliciously. _She was a minx_, he thought. But John soon realised that he was staring a little too much, and raised his eyes to watch as her fingers skimmed the bookshelves.

"And what were you hoping to find, miss?"

"Something romantic," Anna purred. "But risqué."

John raised his eyebrow. "That's very racy of you, madam."

"I _am _racy." Anna protested indignantly. She turned around and faced him, one hand on her hip and her eyebrows raised.

"Oh, really?" John teased her. His hand came out to rest at her hip, pulling her gently towards him as she tried to stifle her laughter. She looked at him incredulously as she now stood with barely any space between them, her back pressed against the bookcase.

"Is this how you treat all of your customers?"

"Only the most beautiful ones," John replied, lowering his head to seek out her lips.

"Charmer," Anna breathed before she could resist no longer and caught his lips in a searing kiss. Since their time in the park, these kisses had become a regular part of their times together, when they could steal moments alone like this. Anna found she was becoming very accustomed to these feelings, and she no longer felt shy about initiating them or teasing him in their times together. There was something quite magical about how her confidence was restored in his presence. She had never felt more comfortable. She knew they were playing with fire on some occasions, but she also knew that she trusted John inexplicably.

Anna instantly sought to deepen the kiss, and she audibly groaned as John's other hand came to her other hip, his hands now cradling her as they embraced heatedly. She could feel her stomach tighten, and instinctively she reached out her hands and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him flush against her.

John groaned now, and as the sound reached his ears he realised where they were, and what they were doing. Reluctantly he pulled back.

"Anna…" He could hear her let out a shaky breath and it secretly thrilled him as he saw the effect he had on her. "We should be careful."

Although Anna wanted nothing more than to _not _be careful anymore right now, she also knew that he was right. She nodded in agreement, her eyes looking to the ground. However, her chin was soon being tilted upwards by his index finger, and her eyes soon came into contact with his, and his smile was infectious.

"But I did enjoy that very much."

Anna smiled, and before she knew otherwise he was kissing her softly, multiple times. Their noses bumped together, and they let out a shaky laugh together before continuing as before. These slower, softer kisses were just as glorious, she decided as her head tilted back. His hand had moved to stroke the wisps of her hair that had fallen from her bun and he finally placed one final kiss to her temple.

"I should go. I need to do some shopping before my shift tonight."

"When will I see you again?"

Anna smiled up at him and teased, "Why? Do you miss me?"

He grabbed her waist playfully and pulled her to him again, causing her to laugh out loud. "I miss you when you're out of sight."

Anna smiled at the romantic sentiment. She smoothed her hands over his chest, resting her head against it and listening to the beat of his heart and enjoying the rhythmic lull of his chest. She felt even safer when his arms wrapped around her, cradling her.

"Tomorrow is my day off." John mentioned as he held her close.

"I finish tomorrow morning, and then I'm not back until Monday. I could meet you in the afternoon?"

John murmured in agreement.

* * *

The next day, Anna and John visited the British Museum together. Anna was to meet him there after she had slept from her night shift and the afternoon had grown slightly dull in comparison to the ones they had been enjoying recently.

John had taken a bus ride to meet her, feeling that it would be better for his knee, and it would mean they could potentially walk back later if the weather remained good for them. As he stepped off the bus and walked in the direction of the museum, he noticed her from afar. She was stood by one of the pillars, her hands clasped at her front holding onto her purse, and wearing a light grey coat. Her hair shone even in the grim, cloudy weather. John noticed her smiling at a passing couple with a young child at their side, and it was enough to brighten his day.

He quickened his pace subconsciously, but his eyes never failed to leave her form until he was at her side. Anna noticed him quite quickly in the crowd, and her smile widened.

"Hello, stranger. Fancy seeing you here."

John could only smile at her greeting, remove his hat and pressing a loving kiss to her cheek. It was all he dared to do in the middle of a busy London afternoon.

"It's good to see you. Shall we?" John motioned towards the museum entrance and Anna nodded.

As they walked in together, Anna took his arm. John smiled.

They spent the afternoon strolling around the museum and investigating the different artifacts. Both of them enjoyed seeing which items interested the other, and spent their time watching animatedly as they took in all the information.

When the afternoon drew to a close, John mentioned that she should come back for a little while, and that his mother would be pleased to see her. Anna agreed heartily, knowing that she would not have to be up for work the next day at all.

They arrived back at John's home and could instantly hear Maeve humming along to some tune in the kitchen. Anna smiled as John took her coat and hung it by the door and simultaneously started to unpin her hat. John watched happily as her hair was revealed to him in its full glory.

"At least the weather held off on the way home," Anna sighed in relief, stretching out her arms when she was shed of her hat and coat.

"Indeed," John smiled, taking the opportunity to kiss her cheek before untying his shoes.

"John, is that you?" Maeve called from the kitchen.

John nodded at Anna to go through as he called out, "Yes, mam. And Anna's here."

Anna did not have time to reach the kitchen door, because Maeve had already appeared there. She clasped her hands together in delight as she noticed Anna and immediately leapt forwards and embraced her.

"Oh it's lovely to see you again, dear. Do come through. Do you want a cup of tea?"

Anna almost laughed at the motherly instinct once more, and nodded. "A cup of tea would be lovely."

She followed Maeve through into the kitchen, but not before casting a glance over her shoulder at John who was stood there smiling at them amusedly.

The evening was spent in comfort, as usual. Maeve and John were very much like a family to her now, Anna thought with a smile as they relaxed in the sitting room. Maeve had asked them about their afternoon together, and Anna's recent work as well as the latest tales of her life. Anna enjoyed listening to the older woman, even if it sometimes became repetitive. She was such a sweet old woman, and there was almost a sense of a breath of fresh air whenever she spent time with her.

"Oh, look at the time," Maeve exclaimed suddenly. "I should start the washing up before heading up."

"We can do that." Anna insisted, giving John a pointed look.

Maeve was about to stand up and argue before John and Anna gathered the pots from the sitting room and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Stay here and relax mam." John insisted, kissing her cheek as he left the sitting room with Anna. "We'll sort this." Maeve smiled thankfully at her son.

When John came into the kitchen, Anna had already started filling the sink with warm water. He had managed to balance some of the dishes in his hand, and he found that lately he had been becoming even more accustomed to walking on his leg, so much so that he rarely used his cane around the house. He could feel it start to ache now though, and was very much looking forward to being able to take it off later tonight.

"She did cook again, it was only fair." Anna explained.

"You're the guest, surely I should be the one doing all this."

"Well, I think I'm here often enough now to help with my fair share." Anna teased, smiling at him over her shoulder before turning back to the washing. "I'll wash, you can dry."

John smiled at her reasoning, and picked up a dish cloth from the table and walked across to her.

"I can tell my mother loves having you here more often, knowing that we…" John trailed off, and Anna turned to him with a raised eyebrow as she imagined the end of his sentence.

"That we?" Anna asked.

"Well…" John began, rubbing his neck. "Now that we're… involved? Courting?"

Anna smiled adoringly at his stuttering, and in order to assuage his nerves she squeezed his hand. "I like the sound of that." They stared at each other for a few moments longer before Anna spoke up again, "Now, come on. Let's finish this. The sooner we're done the sooner we can sit back in there and relax."

He nodded in agreement and the two of them continued the washing up until John was putting away the final plate. Anna was draining the water from the sink when she felt his arms wrap around her middle, and she smiled, leaning back against him. She felt his breath against her neck, and then the soft, gentle press of his lips on her skin.

"Sergeant Bates," she murmured. "Whatever are you doing?"

John simply grunted in response. He kissed her neck once more before slowly turning her around, his hand coming to cradle her cheek. "I've been waiting to do this all night."

"Well there's nothing stopping you," Anna teased.

John grinned, and as Anna leaned upwards to narrow the distance between them, he met her in the middle. Their lips locked together and after a few moments it was deepened. Anna sighed into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck as his pulled her closer to him by the waist.

Once they had parted, John kissed her temple and pulled Anna against him for a hug. Anna let out another contented sigh and rested her head against his chest. She could feel his lips against the top of her head twice more before he rested his head against her, and she could sense his eyes closing.

They simply stood there in silence until the kitchen door opened.

Maeve cleared her throat, and the two of them promptly pulled apart. Maeve simply grinned at their actions. "Can I be trusting the two of you alone?" She teased them, and the older woman could have laughed when both of their cheeks turned red. "I'm just kidding you both." She laughed. "I just came in to say goodnight. I'm going to head up."

"Goodnight," Anna spoke, stepping forward to embrace Maeve quickly. "I'll see you again soon."

"I hope so, dear." Maeve smiled. "Are you walking her to the bus, John?"

He nodded. "I will do. I'll lock up when I get back."

Maeve came over to her son and patted his cheek. "Cheers, son." She kissed his cheek before bidding them a final goodnight and heading upstairs.

"I should go soon as well." Anna said remorsefully. "Make sure I don't miss the last bus."

Whilst John wanted nothing more than to spend more time with her, he knew she was speaking sensibly. And whilst there was a spare bedroom here, there was no way it could be seen as proper for her to stay the night.

"I'll get our coats and we can go." John replied. "I'll walk you to the stop."

Anna smiled and replied graciously with a kiss.

* * *

_Early September, 1917_

On another of their afternoons together they had decided to visit the Victoria and Albert Museum. They were slowly working their way around a lot of the museums London had to offer, and the two of them enjoyed them thoroughly as it often meant discovering even more about the other. Anna made no attempt to hide her enthusiasm about history, and John revealed that history books were often his favourite to read – either that or poetry, depending on which mood took him.

After they had spent several hours in the museum, they decided to stop at a café for lunch and then because the weather had stayed beautiful today, despite the lingering clouds, the two of them decided to go back to the park closer to Anna's home. They had enjoyed it there, they both reasoned with a wistful and cheeky smile.

They took the bus part of the way, mainly because of John's knee and the distance to the park, but Anna had reasoned that she was exhausted still after her latest shift, and that she fancied being a little lazier than usual. John was silently gracious for her reasoning, and that she had not drawn attention to it. Whilst he knew it impeded him, he also hated drawing attention to it regardless, and he hated to think that it stopped them from doing anything.

Anna insisted on paying for the bus fare, reasoning that he had paid for their lunch in the café.

"I can pay my own way, Sergeant Bates." Anna teased as they sat down, although it was also true.

"I like spending money on you." John replied.

"And what makes you think I feel any different?" Anna implored.

When John could not think of a suitable response, he admitted defeat and raised his hands at her in surrender. Anna smiled triumphantly.

They talked more as the bus continued to turn through the streets of London, Anna occasionally pointing out some of the sights she saw often. They eventually reached the stop closest to the park and alighted the bus. However, almost as soon as they did, and almost as soon as the bus had pulled away, the skies opened and it started to rain heavily.

"Oh my…" Anna looked up, covering herself as best she could with her arms.

"Typical," John sighed. He was admittedly looking forward to spending more time with Anna this afternoon with some form of privacy – at least as much privacy as the park could have afforded them. Now it seemed like it was not to be. They could take shelter in a coffee shop, and he was about to suggest the idea when Anna beat him to it with a much more appealing suggestion.

"We could go back to mine for a little while. It's not far from here." John looked at her surprisingly. It was a rather scandalous suggestion. "Sybil will be home. She can chaperone." Anna grinned.

As the rain continued to pour, John found that he was in no real position to argue with her about this – not that he would want to. He followed Anna to another bus stop close by, and it was not long before a bus arrived that stopped relatively close to her home. It was a short ride, about five or ten minutes, and then another five minute walk to her building.

In that time the two of them were soaked through, having gone out in light coats because of the weather earlier.

They were shaking off the water from their backs as Anna rummaged around in her purse for her key. She soon found it though and opened the door to her apartment, motioning for John to enter before her.

John looked around Anna's home for the first time and immediately found that it suited her. There was little decoration like his mother's home with her pictures and photographs, but it was no less homely, and Anna had clearly made it her own with Sybil.

As he thought about Sybil, he also noticed that she was nowhere to be seen. Anna must have realised what he was thinking, and she bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders sheepishly. "She must have gone out."

"You naughty girl." John laughed, but moved his hand to her waist and pulled Anna towards him as she laughed along, their lips meeting in a searing kiss. They did not allow things to get too heated however, and soon decided to stop and make some warm drinks.

"I'll make us something to drink. Stop us catching a cold."

"Should I light the fire?" John offered. "I may need to dry my coat before I go."

"Of course," Anna replied. "That sounds nice."

They set about their tasks and quickly completed them. Anna was just pouring the cups of tea when John finished the fire and shuffled out of his coat, hanging it close to the heat. He also removed his shoes and ran a hand through his wet hair. Anna noticed how it hung without the pomade and was secretly enjoying the view.

She brought the tea over to the little table in front of the settee and smiled at John. She had removed her hat, but her hair was still wet and the unexpected turn of the weather had caused strands to fall out from the neat bun she had made earlier that day. Unable to cope with it any longer, she released the pins and let her hair fall to the side, quickly forming a plait which fell over her right shoulder.

John was sure she had noticed him staring, but he could hardly help it. He had never seen her with her hair down, and the sight had struck him by surprise. She was beautiful, that much he had already been sure of, and he had always loved her hair. But to see it loose was such an intimate sight – a sight he would never forget until his last breath.

Anna looked up and caught his eyes. She smiled at him softly, and he returned the gesture before taking a seat beside her on the settee. He reached for his cup and thanked her quietly. They sat there and talked for a while, their heads impossibly close together as the intimacy of the situation fell on them. Anna finished her cup fairly quickly, and once she had placed it back on the table she rested her head on his shoulder, holding onto his free hand as they continued to chatter.

Their topics of conversation were always varied. But being in Anna's home, the conversation had turned to more about her. John asked her how long she had been here, and what she had done to the place, because it looked very lovely and very _her_. Anna smiled and thanked him for the compliment.

"What's one of your favourite things to do, when you're not working?" John asked. He had now placed down his cup and had his arm wrapped around her shoulder. His legs were stretched out and he could feel the relief on his knee.

"This isn't too bad," Anna replied saucily.

John laughed. "I mean in your spare time _not _with me." But inside he was thrilled she enjoyed their time together as much as he did. He could still scarcely believe a person like Anna could truly love and enjoy being with him. He knew he was being irrational about it, and he knew Anna was truthful with her feelings, but insecurities were hardly rational.

Anna thought for a moment. "I went out dancing with Sybil once. That was great fun. We don't get the chance to go often, but I do enjoy it when we do." John smiled as he imagined Anna thoroughly enjoying herself as she danced. "I used to love it when I was a child too. My mother always used to say that during the village parties I'd never stop. They'd have to haul me away to get me back home for bedtime."

John chuckled, and Anna smiled as she felt the reverberations against his shoulder. "Why don't I find that hard to believe?" John teased. "I've seen you dance. You're enchanting – a creature of quicksilver and light."

"Sergeant Bates," Anna teased, shifting her head from his shoulder to look him in the eye. "Are you flirting with me?"

John replied by wiggling his eyebrows, causing her to laugh. He silenced her with a soft, slow kiss that slowly deepened. They enjoyed the kiss in the privacy of her flat, safe in the knowledge that no one but Sybil would be interrupting them. Afterwards, they sat together on the settee in silence for a little while longer, embracing.

"We should dance!" Anna suddenly exclaimed a little while later, causing John to jump in surprise.

"That might be slightly difficult," John scowled, motioning to his leg as he outstretched it. The muscles in his upper leg flexed as he attempted to ease the cramping that might start if he sat in the same place for too long.

"A slow one," Anna pleaded. "You don't even have to move, just sway."

John continued to look sceptical at the idea.

Anna stood up and turned to face him. Her hands were now planted firmly on her hips, and his view from the settee of her curves was glorious. His eyes appreciated the sight, and he smiled at her lovingly and was pleased when she returned the gesture. But she still looked determined.

"We don't even have music," John argued.

"Sybil has a gramophone, and some records. She lets me use it." Anna replied.

She instantly turned and walked to the corner of the room where the gramophone lived, choosing a record and fixing some slow music. John watched as Anna worked, and when she turned as the first notes of the music drifted around the room, he scowled once more. Anna walked over, undeterred by his less than enthusiastic facial expressions, and held out her hand. "Come sway with me, Sergeant."

Eventually, after a few moments of Anna staring at him with a pleading expression that he knew would never fail to win him around, he took her hand and slowly rose to his feet. He noticed immediately how steadily she was holding his hand, and smiled to himself at the gesture.

They spent the next moments in a comforting silence, simply the music filling the room and the occasional creak of the floorboard as they danced slowly together in their socks. John stumbled occasionally, but Anna kept her arms wrapped firmly around his neck, and his were around her waist. Her head was against his chest, and he had rested his atop of her loose hair.

They continued to sway to the music, lost in their own little world, and John chastised himself for ever thinking this would be a bad idea. As he held Anna securely in his arms, he knew there was no place he would rather be.

John continued to stumble in places, but Anna moved her hands and kept a firm hold around his waist. John knew that she would never truly understand how much of a pillar of strength she had been, and continued to be, for him. He felt the most secure in her arms than he had ever been. She would never let him fall.

After a few more minutes just swaying together, after the music had changed, John found the urge to kiss her become too irresistible. His lips descended on the skin of her neck, and he was delighted and spurred on by her sighs of pleasure. His arms tightened around her waist as he continued to kiss her skin, and eventually they staggered back onto the settee.

Their embrace became a lot more heated now. Kisses became more passionate and filled with a desperate longing, and whilst John originally put up a mild protest, it soon became clear that neither of them wanted to stop.

However, when Anna moved to sit atop of him, her hands drifting down his chest and stomach, John stopped them. He took her hands and moved them to her side, kissing them both, and then her nose when she started to look disheartened at the abruptness of their stop. John then pulled Anna into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "But we couldn't have…"

"I know."

"I'm not quite sure how my Catholic mother would react to grandchildren before a proposal, let alone a wedding."

Anna giggled in his arms, and she could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he joined her. But even the mention of a proposal sent butterflies throughout her stomach. It was something she had thought about, of course, but hearing it out loud from John was a different feeling altogether.

John seemed to have notice the impact of his words too, because he noticed her silence. Wordlessly, he told her he meant it by tightening his hold around her, smiling to himself as he heard her sigh happily and snuggle further into his embrace. He kissed the top of her head once before closing his eyes, learning to simply enjoy the peacefulness of the moment together. Although any such thoughts of Vera were quickly banished from his mind during times like these, he did acknowledge that his relationship with his ex-wife had been nothing like this, and the depth of his feelings for Anna proved to defy any of his previous thoughts that he might once have been in love with the woman he had mistakenly married.

The two of them remained settled on the settee for a while, simply resting their eyes and catching up with the day, until the front door opened and Sybil returned home. Both of them scrambled into a more respectable position, but not soon enough for Anna's flat mate not to see.

Sybil smirked at them both as she dropped some of her shopping onto the table.

"Don't move on my account." Sybil teased. "It's nice to see you again, Sergeant."

John smiled and nodded at her awkwardly.

"We weren't doing…"

Sybil held up her hand and stopped Anna from continuing. "Don't, you don't need to say anything."

Anna smiled at her friend gratefully. She then moved across to the kitchen area and offered to help put away the groceries Sybil had been out to purchase. But Sybil waved away her help, and indicated that Anna should go and spend time together in private.

Anna followed her friend's silent advice and turned back to John. She walked across and smiled at him before holding out her hand for him to take.

* * *

John took it immediately and followed Anna slowly through another door into her room.

He felt a little nervous, being in her personal space, but he also recognised that they needed to be alone for a little while and talk about what had just happened. He instantly felt the need to apologise for his earlier actions, and being unable to control himself. The embarrassment of Sybil walking in on them caused him to apologise.

"I'm sorry for before," John began. Anna turned around and looked slightly shocked at his apology. John noticed a different look in her eye, but it was one that he could not quite place his finger upon. "We were dancing, and I took advantage of the situation. Of _you_. It should never have happened, and I'm sorry."

Anna shook her head. "You didn't, it's fine."

"No, Anna. I did."

Anna's eyes widened and she replied boldly. "You did _not _take advantage, you never would." Her outburst shocked John. "You are not that man, you would never do that."

John frowned. He had no idea that his choice of words would upset her so much – a lot more than he would have considered being her normal reaction. John was concerned as he noticed her hand shaking slightly and her shoulders heaving unsteadily. He stepped forward, his face showing his concern, and placed his hands cautiously on her shoulders. John noticed the tears gathering in her eyes, and his heart started to beat irrationally, his nerves growing by the second as he imagined why those words might have upset her so.

"Anna?"

His tone of voice, so soft and delicate and caring, caused the tears to finally fall. Anna felt the walls she had built up start to crumble and slowly fall. She knew she had kept it a secret from him, but it had happened before he had arrived. His words had brought it back, and she knew it was time to tell him.

"You're not that kind of man," Anna whispered passionately. She was facing the floor now, almost as though she was ashamed to look at him. John carefully lifted her chin with his index finger. When their eyes met, he implored her silently to tell him the matter.

Anna nodded silently and took his hand, leading him to sit on the edge of the bed at her side. She kept one of her hands firmly clasped around his whilst the other played with the fabric of her dress. Meanwhile John waited patiently for her to start talking.

"It was several months before you came to the hospital," Anna began. John felt sick to his stomach as he already imagined the worst. "He seemed nice at first, Private Green." John squeezed her hand gently. "He got along well with the nurses, and the rest of the patients. But then one night… I was taking some of the laundry to be washed, and he'd followed me. He came up behind me, he said things, said I was only good for one thing…"

Anna's hand was shaking, even whilst wrapped up in his.

"Did he…" John needed to ask.

Anna shook her head, her spare hand covering her mouth. "No. Matron came along and found him. She stopped him before he could…" Anna stopped once more, and John squeezed her hand gently. "Then she had him transferred to another hospital."

John remembered the words of warning the older woman had given him during his time at the hospital, especially when he had been growing closer to Anna, and now those words made sense. But he also realised how this strong and fierce the woman he loved was.

"It took me a while to… I was still quite shaken for a time. But matron helped," Anna took a steady breath. "She gave me some lighter duties for a little while, so it would reduce the time I spent with the patients. And when I was on the ward, she ensured someone would be there with me. It got better, easier, but she watched me like a hawk sometimes, even with you."

"You were so strong," John reassured her. "You _are _still so strong."

"I realised that not all men were like him. Some were, but most just needed my help."

"That was brave of you."

"It's not like I had a choice."

"You always have a choice."

Anna smiled at him softly. She squeezed his hand, and moved her other to cover their entwined hands. "I love you."

He could see an unfamiliar look of nervousness in her eyes, and he briefly wondered if she honestly thought he would feel differently after her revelation. Internally he shook his head at the thought. Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he reached up with his spare hand and cupped her cheek. His thumb stroked the skin there gently, and he was ecstatic when Anna leaned further into his touch, her eyes closing at the pleasantness of the contact.

"Anna," he whispered gently. The quietness of their moment made it seem like the two of them were locked away in another world, as though they were confined together in a dome and would never have to worry about the rest of the world again. He waited until she opened her eyes, needing to look at her when he spoke his next words. When they opened, he smiled. His thumb continued to stroke her cheek, and that aroused a smile from her too. "I love you."

It struck him that he had never spoken words with such sincerity and love. His voice almost cracked with the emotion, but he persevered and managed not to stumble. John noticed that Anna was crying now, but as her smile persisted despite the tears falling down her cheeks, he was reassured that these were indeed happy tears.

"I have never loved you more than I do at this moment. What you told me changes _nothing_." Anna closed her eyes as she listened to his words. There had been a niggling fear that she thought he would... no, it was not worth thinking about. And it was not the case. She smiled, and she never thought she could be as happy, or content, as she was in this moment with him. Her heart was racing, but at the same time she had never felt more at peace. Before he could stop her, Anna spoke,

"And I know I will never find a finer man – a better man. I have never felt more at peace than I do when I'm with you. I've never felt safer."

John scoffed at her choice of words, at least about there being no finer man, but she was insistent.

"Because there isn't one. There couldn't be."

John smiled at her now. "What did I do to deserve you? I must have done something positively heroic in a former life."

Anna traced his cheek and looked into his eyes. She would never tire of gazing into them, enjoying their colour and their depth. Her thumb circled the skin of his cheek as she smiled.

"You're just as much a hero in _this _life. And I love you for it."

John moved his hand to cover hers and kissed her once more, thanking whatever power above that they had sent Anna into his life, a saving grace and an angel to give him hope, truth and life. But as their kiss ended and he pulled Anna into his arms, feeling her physically at peace in his embrace, he realised for the first time that he might be for Anna what she was for him, and suddenly he knew the reason he had survived in France.

And he swore she was the reason.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope this read ok. I didn't have much time to edit this, and I wanted to post it quickly because I realise it's been so long, so I apologise for any spelling errors etc.


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